


Obedient Anarchists

by SecretWonderland



Series: harry potter but dark and gay [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A+ Parenting, Abuse, Cedric Diggory Lives, Draco Malfoy is a Good Boyfriend, Draco is A Medical Baby, F/F, F/M, Friends with Snakes, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Good Slytherins, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inter-House Friendship, M/M, Magical Heritage, Remus Lupin in big Sweaters, Sirius Black Lives, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:14:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 133,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretWonderland/pseuds/SecretWonderland
Summary: Sometimes Harry really thinks he’s been cursed in life.It’s really the only explanation and it makes a ton of sense.He’s born, which has potential, but then his parents were both violently murdered, so that’s not all great. And he had a chance to live with his godfather and the werewolf boyfriend, literally the plot of some romance novel, he’s sure, but that somehow ended up with Sirius in Azkaban, Remus depressed, and Harry in the care of some of the most abusive people he’s ever met in his life. He’s lied to for years, and then he gets magic, something he had only dared to think about, but he got it at the cost of having to kill a professor at the ripe age of eleven.Harry gets to experience love, from family that he has now, friends that he never expected to make, and the biggest asshole that always makes him warm. He gets to feel happiness, but only if the world’s biggest serial killer comes with it.or the one where at least their relationships have fallen into place
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Severus Snape/Original Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: harry potter but dark and gay [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706284
Comments: 84
Kudos: 209





	1. A Happier Summer

The last time Draco Malfoy looked forward to going home was when he was ten years old.

It was raining outside, and Mrs. Zabini was ending another relationship so there was a lot of yelling during his and Blaise’s playdate. Blaise had been in a _foul_ mood because his mum wouldn’t let him tailor his clothes and Pansy hadn’t been much happier because she wasn’t allowed to hex her annoying teachers. Narcissa picked him up at noon, promising to go home and have tea with Lucius, and Draco had nearly cried tears of joy. 

If someone had told him last year that he’d be looking forward to seeing his father he would’ve hexed them blind. 

But here he is, nearly vibrating in the car much to Narcissa’s annoyance. 

“Will you calm down? You haven’t even heard the best news yet.” 

“News?” Draco tries to still his legs, it doesn’t work well. He wants to be home _now._ The sooner he’s home, the sooner he can check on Lucius’s arm that may or may not have been used to revive the Dark Lord, but hey, having his father not beat him is an expensive price to pay. 

Plus, as soon as he’s done with that he can call Harry on the weird ‘cell phone’ thing Hermione made. 

“Yes the news, Sirius and Remus will be joining us for dinner.”

Yeah, he kinda expected that. After all, Sirius can’t see his godson, so his cousin’s kid will have to suffice. Draco would be irritated if he could care. 

He can see the manor gates in the distance, he’s nearly home. 

Next to him LuLu purrs, nuzzling her little white head into his thigh like she’s relieved to be back too. 

What a difference a year can make. 

The manor seems smaller now, not looming over him like the past few years. He doesn't feel the slightest bit of anxiety looking at the steps, walking into the door feels more like coming home than it ever has.

“Welcome back, Master Draco.”

Draco smiles down at Sisily, handing his coat to Winky “You got Geia taken care of, right? Food supplies and direct line to Harry?”

“Yes Sir,” Winky replies, “Misses Geia has the contraption Misses Hermione made for Mister Harry, and I already be bringing your things to your rooms, sir.”

Perfect. Now his weird Parstletoungue boyfriend can talk to their Basilisk friend. He’s sure that won’t cause any problems for anyone.

“Wonderful,” He pauses for a second, peering at her outfit. Something is off about it…. “Winky, did you make yourself another outfit?”

Winky blushes, her ears going back a bit, “Yes sir.”

“It looks wonderful-”

Narcissa ruffles his hair, leaning beyond him to compliment Winky herself. “You look lovely dear, Sisily, friend, could you bring some tea to my room? I think my darling Dragon will combust if he doesn't see his father soon.”

“I wouldn’t have to run if you’d let me apparate-”

“Absolutely not! You're only fifteen, you have two more years before you’re allowed to get your license!”

Draco would bother with a glare, but he’s a little busy sprinting up steps. 

His parents’ room is furthest down on the West Wing because it’s the biggest and his mother loves the view. 

Their entry way is a little over the top, but that’s just because Narcissa loves pistachio green and Draco’s more of a emerald green person. Even so, their fainting couch by the fireplace used to be one of his favorite napping spots. When he was young he’d curl up next to whichever one of them was reading there and dream of faraway places more magical than himself. 

His own room has the same ceiling to floor windows, the same silky white sheets, as many pillows as he wants in his king bed.

His room does not, however, have Lucius propped up in bed with a book.

Lucius looks up when he rushes in, already smiling. He has his glasses on, his hair tied back. He hasn’t look his close to _dad_ in _so fucking long._

“Dragon! Welcome back! How was the ride? Did your mother tell you that-”

“Book down, please.”

Lucius gives him a look, but he does slowly put down his book and hold out his newer arm. Draco grabs his wand to run a diagnosis, but watching the magic growing his father’s arm is a little distracting. Unbelievable. Anyone who saw it would assume Lucius only got his hand cut off, not his entire arm, elbow and Dark Mark included. Poppy was right, his medical magic does have a long way to go, but her outrageously good healing doesn’t account for the disappearance of his father’s Dark Mark. At least, Draco thinks it’s gone. They won’t really know until the arm is fully healed, and even then, just because the mark is gone doesn’t mean Lucius’s ties are cut.

Magic always lingers for bloodlines like theirs.

“Are you done yet? I’ve been taking all my potions, I rather think you and Madam Pomphrey did a splendid job.”

“Don’t listen to your father, Draco, he just hates medical talk when I’m in the room.”

Well, Draco understands why. The last time he left his father’s health in his mother’s hands she killed him. Not for long, of course, and she _did_ fix their little curse issue, but he’s still of the opinion that death was a little unnecessary. They’re still cleaning up the dungeons.

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re on about, love.” Lucius bristles, “I just want to know how our son’s final days of school went.”

Draco would call bullshit, but he has to call Winky for his father’s potions. It’s not a total loss, after all, he doesn’t have to call bullshit when Narcissa can do it with a single look.

\----------

Sometimes Harry really thinks he’s been cursed in life.

It’s really the only explanation and it makes a ton of sense.

He’s born, which has potential, but then his parents were both violently murdered, so that’s not all great. And he had a chance to live with his godfather and the werewolf boyfriend, literally the plot of some romance novel, he’s sure, but that somehow ended up with Sirius in Azkaban, Remus depressed, and Harry in the care of some of the most abusive people he’s ever met in his life. He’s lied to for _years,_ and then he gets _magic,_ something he had only _dared_ to think about, but he got it at the cost of having to kill a professor at the ripe age of eleven. A repeating theme, of course, because he gets to go back to the wonderful magic world, but only if he endangers his best friend’s little sister. He gets to make friends with his enemy, but only if he realizes that his parents were betrayed by one of their closest friends. 

Harry gets to experience love, from family that he has now, friends that he never expected to make, and the biggest asshole that always makes him warm. He gets to feel happiness, but only if the world’s biggest killer comes with the little joy that’s filling his life.

So yeah, Harry’s willing to bet his entire trust fund that he was cursed as a baby. 

He’s so deep into his new theory, planning out how he’ll present it to Hermione, that he doesn't even notice Uncle Vernon talking to him.

“-oy! Are you even listening to me?! You come into my house, use _my_ water, eat _my_ food and you can’t even bother listening?! You-you-”

Harry doesn’t even have time to duck from the meaty hand. He’s lucky Draco cast that unbreakable spell on his glasses last year, otherwise they’d be long gone. 

He has a fading bruise on his left eye, and now he’ll probably have one on his right to match. 

Something about that seems fucked up, but a lot of his life is fucked up.

As punishment for not paying attention and getting caught, Vernon exiles him to his room for the evening, no food, no water, not even his wand.

He’ll be let out in the morning for chores, but for now he has to worry about hiding his newer puffy eye, Draco will be calling any minute. 

As soon as he thinks it, a little ringing sound starts in his pocket.

“Harry?” Godric, it’s only been a few hours and he’s missed his boyfriend’s voice, “I tried to call earlier when Sirius and Remus were here but you didn’t answer.”

“Yeah, sorry, I was with Uncle Vernon. How’s you dad?” 

Draco goes into detail, giving an unnecessarily graphic description of his father’s arm, updates him on Lucius and and Narcissa, it’s all going swell until there’s a knock at his door and because the Dursleys have a tendency to take good things away from him, Harry shoves the phone under his bed.

“Who’re you talkin to, boy?!” Vernon yells, flinging open the door.

Harry stands so he looks less suspicious. “No one.”

“No one who?”

Harry knows he’s supposed to say sir, he knows he is but he’s not going to and it’s going to cost him one smack to the face but it’ll be worth it-

“Vernon! We only have so long! Have the boy come now!”

Huh?

Harry wants to ask what’s going on, but he can’t speak until spoken to here, so he waits for Vernon to give him permission to go. He can get away with some back talk, but he wouldn’t dare to outright disobey.

Apparently, Aunt Petunia is having a dinner party tomorrow, and her friends all like Harry’s cooking, so he’ll be doing the work. All of it. The cooking, the cleaning, scrubbing the dishes, making sure the house is presentable. Guests will arrive at five tomorrow evening, and it’s eleven o’clock. Aunt Petunia hands him a list with a frown like something displeases her.

“I understand,” She says slowly, like he’s still five and learning how to speak properly, “That you are slow. But this _better_ get done, mm? Take a shower while you’re at it, you smell dreadful. Or maybe it’s that hair of yours,” She frowns deeply, “We’ve tried shaving your head before, that man’s genes are so hard to weed out.”

It’s a low blow, his parents are a sensitive topic and they both know it, but he knows what happens if he lashes out.

He doesn’t like what happens when he lashes out.

So, instead, Harry begins with dusting. Then he’ll prep the turkey because it has to slow cook for twelve hours. As soon as that’s in the oven he cleans counters so he can clean the silverware, and the table, and the plates. He’ll have to shine them afterwards, but he won’t risk Aunt Petunia’s anger. After that he beats the dust off the couch, cleaning up the living room as quietly as he can. He sweeps and scrubs the floors, and when he’s done with that it’s seven in the morning, which means Vernon will be down soon, so he hurries to make coffee and a quick breakfast.

He has to wait for Vernon to sit down to drink his coffee. 

It’s a system he’s worked out by now. If he showers before Vernon drinks his coffee Vernon only gives him two minutes. One minute to figure out why there isn’t coffee, and one minute to figure out where the hell Harry is. If he does it after Vernon has had his cup then he’s cranky and will throw Harry out of the second story bathroom so he can use it for his early morning poops. But, if Harry catches that sweet spot right as Vernon takes the first sip, he gets a whole five minutes. 

“Make yourself scarce,” Vernon glares as Harry hands him his briefcase, “my wife deserves better than a stain in her house.”

As soon as he’s gone Harry rushes to finish up the kitchen. The party is being held in the backyard, so he’ll spend the day gardening. Even so, food is being served in the dining room that has a clear view to the kitchen. He still has dishes to wash and he has to finish breakfast for his aunt and cousin and then clean up that mess and if Aunt Petunia’s kitchen isn’t ready by eleven then-

“What is this?”

 _Fuck._ He forgot to clean Vernon’s coffee from this morning.

“You’ve had twelve hours, boy.” He hates her disappointed voice, it never bodes well for his body. “Twelve hours and you leave a mess? In my kitchen, in my _home._ The one I invited you into when your parents had their...accident...I’ve been so kind to you...and this is how you repay me? With filth and squalor?”

She speaks evenly and coolly, like a viper waiting to strike, but he’s met a basilisk, and Geia is supposed to be the scariest one out there. Harry squares his shoulders. That’s right, he’s friends with a fucking basilisk. He kissed the hand of Narcissa Malfoy and escaped from Tom Riddle. Some petite suburban mum isn’t going to scare him!

“You know what this means, of course.”

Harry’s blood runs cold. 

He reminds himself that this is nothing. Draco’s faced worse. It’s not being chained to a dungeon and beaten by his own father. Worse things have happened.

“Hands on the sink, boy.”

He’s shaking worse than he was when Draco kissed him the first time.

Belts always look weird in Aunt Petunia’s little hands. The one she holds now is tiny and white, Pansy would criticize it, saying something like how cream looks much better with pale pink than white. She’d also probably make fun of him for shaking at the sight of a belt in tiny pale hands, but he can only do so much.

Harry would willingly face Riddle a thousand times if it meant never having to see that sight again.

“You will count.” Aunt Petunia says, voice like she’s merely commenting on the weather.

He always counts. If he doesn’t, Vernon gets a shot at him. Aunt Petunia at least lets him hide it, if Vernon had his way Harry would no longer have a mouth or skin colored skin. The twins voice in the back of his head snark out something about a bruising fetish, but Harry can’t focus on that while he’s counting.

Vernon is all force, no precision, no thought into his movements. He lashes out randomly, worse if Harry doesn't obey the rules. Aunt Petunia is the exact opposite. She likes to know how much he can handle and force him past that. They make it to seventy-five hits, repeatedly in three particular spots, the middle of his butt where it will hurt to sit, the back of his legs so it will hurt to stand, and the base of his spine because his aunt is a bitch. By fifty Harry’s vision is swimming, by sixty he’s crying, and by seventy he’s having trouble counting.

“Last one.” Aunt Petunia says softly, calmly. 

It’s not the last one.

She takes it to eighty, kicking him out of the kitchen so his tears ‘won’t ruin the food of my good guests’.

He’s not allowed to sleep even though his body is begging to lay down and rest. A bed sounds wonderful, but he knows that even if he does make it to his ‘bed’ in his ‘room’ before tomorrow, he won’t feel safe enough to actually sleep. No, that will have to wait until August when he can finally go back to Hogwarts.

Blaise would be mortified by his aunt’s garden. He’d find a thousand things wrong with it, bring Petunia to tears. Harry fantasies about it as he clips roses that have clearly been neglected over the school year.

The Slytherins would march into the house, noses high in the air like the pompous assholes they are. Pansy would take one look at the lot of them, Vernon, the overweight buffoon without a shred of intelligence, Petunia, a embarrassing excuse for a housewife that wouldn’t last long against the messiest real thing, and Dudley, Merlin he can’t even guess the awful things she’s say about Dudley, but he knows it would reduce them all to shreds.

Blaise would go next, making sure to be extra vicious because he’s almost as over protective as Ron. He’d begin with the quality of Petunia’s ‘fine’ china, slander Vernon’s favorite chair, make sure they know how drab and dreary the wall paper is. He would probably laugh at whatever Dudley thought cool, dumb down his sentences so Dudley could understand the level of insult being directed towards him.

Millie and Theo would lap up at the scraps Blaise and Pansy left them, going after the food, the curtains, Petunia’s barely passable self respect. Theo could probably take one look at Dudley and utter a single sentence to destroy him.

And Draco?

Draco wouldn’t step foot in the hovel. He’d act offended at an offer to walk on unclean floors, say something ridiculous about Harry’s room being the only presentable one. He could set Vernon on fire with a single glare, which would probably make Dudley pee himself, which Harry kinda needs to see.

Harry would like to believe Draco would also go all scary veela on Aunt Petunia like he did on Crouch Jr, but he’d have to beat the Weasleys to her. His family would, without a single doubt in his mind, curse Petunia until her hair turned grey. Well, all of them except Ron. Ron would just punch Dudley and let Hermione knock out his Aunt. They’d save Vernon for Mrs. Wealsey.

He doesn’t even want to imagine what his other adults would do.

There’s no telling with Sirius, he’d either go straight to murder or at least give the lot of them a very through beating. Remus seems more the type to destroy their self confidence. 

Narcissa wouldn’t bother with any of it. She’d get Harry and whatever he cared for out and a week later she’d be talking about how unfortunate it was that his aunt’s kitchen burned the entire house down. 

Harry snorts at that idea right as Aunt Petunia calls him for more instructions.

He only has an hour to finish the garden, and yes she’s upset at the idea of him bleeding in her home, so she makes him wash his cut up hands with a ridiculous amount of soap that stings so fucking bad. He winces once, and her response is to slap him, so he does not wince again.

Then he has to go out and put lights up, begin chilling the wine, wash his hands again, finish food.

He’s right in the middle of mincing garlic when there’s a knock at the front door.

Strange...it’s only two. Guests won’t be arriving for a few hours, Dudley isn’t even awake yet.

Harry moves to get it, but Aunt Petunia stops him.

Her nails dig into the back of his throat. _“Over my dead body will you answer the door!_ Look at you! You have no grace, you smell like garbage and your clothing isn’t much better! You _know_ you’re not allowed looking like this! _Cupboard! Now!”_

Harry wishes she’d sent him upstairs. Upstairs is where his cot is. He doesn't get a real bed, but they did give him a room after the whole ‘wizards at our house’ ordeal. Yes, the room doubles as a storage room for things Dudley can’t decide if he likes or not, but it’s a room all the same.

Instead Harry’s shoved under the stairs, which is a lot more uncomfortable than it was when he was eleven. He’s much too tall for this now, not that he has a say in the matter.

Harry tries to wait patiently, but it’s very dark, they never did put a light down here, and he knows it’s bad to eavesdrop. Aunt Petunia always questions him to make sure he doesn't listen in to her conversations, but he hears his _name._ How can he not listen in when she’s talking about him?! He’s not supposed to exist!

 _“Harry?!”_ She giggles, her nervous giggle that always means angry thrashing for him if he steps a toe out of line, “I’m sorry, sir, but I haven’t the faintest clue-”

“Point me Harry Potter.”

Holy fuck. 

There’s no fucking way.

“The _cupboard?!”_

“Please,” Petunia scoffs, “As if a respectable lady such as myself would-”

“Listen, lady.” The male voice turns rough, it’s also a lot closer, or Harry thinks it’s closer, he can’t really tell, “I don’t care what type of woman you are, but I do believe it’s in your best interest to keep your mouth shut.”

There’s a little creek and light floods his cupboard. He squints a little, the light really is blinding, but even more blinding is the happiness that comes from seeing Remus’s face.

Grated, that happiness only lasts until he sees how furious his godfather-in-law is. 

“Harry?” Remus asks. His voice is much too gentle for this house, it seems almost as out of place as his perfectly fitting suit.

Harry nods, because he’s not supposed to speak until spoken to in this house, but it’s Remus and he knows Remus would never let anything hurt him, and he’d like to make sure he isn’t hallucinating because he hasn’t slept in a bit so he whispers his response. “Remus? You’re-you’re real?”

Remus looks sadder, which makes him look more like the real Remus. “Yes I’m real, come out of there, silly.”

Harry knows Remus would never hurt him, but he’s also had nothing but violent touches these past few days, and he _is_ still at the Dursleys house, so it’s perfectly reasonable for him to flinch when Remus gently touches his shoulder.

Even so, Harry knows what happens when he disobeys here, so he creeps out, making sure to stay in front of Remus so Aunt Petunia can’t hurt him.

Remus doesn't like this one bit, as a matter of fact, Harry can’t say he’s ever seen Remus so angry, which is impressive because he distinctly remembers last year when Remus nearly broke a table because Crouch Jr. used an unforgivable on Draco. 

“Where are you things, Harry?” Remus asks. Harry wants to reply, but he can’t speak freely in front of Aunt Petunia. His body is one thing, but Sirius would have a fit if she hurt Remus too.

His silence is apparently not the right thing.

Remus turns him around slowly, Harry feels stupid for flinching at the contact, but he also feels justified for flinching when he gets a good look at Remus’s face. His teeth are going to break if he doesn’t stop clenching his jaw like that.

“Can you take me to your things?”

Harry nods, and since Aunt Petunia doesn’t protest he leads Remus upstairs. He knows he’ll pay for this later, Aunt Petunia has that look she gets before starving him, but it’s her own fault for not saying ‘no’.

Remus growls a bit when Harry opens the door, and he gets it. Dudley has a lot of shit.

Harry weaves his way past toys, clothing, and other shit he’s afraid to touch, right to his little corner of the world. 

“This is it?”

There’s quite a lot, actually. He has his cot, the bag of clothes he’s allowed to wear with the Dursleys, Hedwig, and his trunk that may or may not be locked with his wand on the inside. Harry nods just once, and to his surprise Remus takes out his wand and shrinks Harry’s trunk, it looks like one of the dolls Dudley used to play with.

“Grab Hedwig’s cage, she can follow us.”

Harry opens his mouth to ask a question, then remembers where he is and shuts it. After a brief pet and a kiss to her forehead, Hedgwing takes off and Harry is left with a toy sized trunk, an empty cage, and a lot of confusion.

They go back downstairs where Aunt Petunia is waiting.

“You’re taking that thing with you, I hope?” She snorts, but Harry’s more surprised that she’s actually talking about him with someone else. “It won’t do to have a freak in my home, Vernon would faint if he saw what the garbage brought with it this time. Nevermind that Lily could never make the right choices, what with settling us with that-that _boy,_ now look! A scarfaced freak tag along-”

”Shut up.” Harry whispers. 

Aunt Petunia smirks. “Excuse me?”

“I said shut up. You don’t get to talk about Remus that way.”

“And you don’t get to speak without being spoken to!” 

Harry flinches as she takes a step forward, and then a large hand comes between them.

“Harry will do whatever the hell he wants, as he is no longer of your concern. As of this day, if he never wants to see you again he won’t have to.”

What?

What the hell is happening-

Hope swells up inside of Harry’s chest, warm and bright and threatening to spill out into his eyes. He doesn't listen to the rest of Remus’s speech, too busy trying to put it all together.

Remus came to fetch him.

Remus lives with Sirius.

Sirius offered to take him in.

Remus is going to take him _home._

What is a home though? Will Hedwig have to stay caged? Will he still cook and clean? What about sleep? What if his cot isn’t as warm?

“Come along, Harry.” Remus says, offering an arm, and Harry’s not sure what he’s supposed to do, but he takes it and the world starts to spin.

The last thing he sees of the Dursleys' house is Aunt Petunia’s panicked face and the smell of burned turkey. 

\----------

Draco hasn’t the faintest clue until Winky brings him the morning paper.

He’s having this wonderful dream about sunbathing in a pool with his friends, and then Winky shows up and starts calling his name, which he doesn’t mind because he quite likes his elf and she usually has good thoughts, so whatever she’s trying to bring to the party Draco will probably be down with-

_“Sir! Sir! Wake up Master Draco! You should be seeing this sir!”_

His left eye pops open only because he hears LuLu huff and her body weight disappears from his side. Draco sits up with a yawn, dragging the white Kneazle back to his chest before addressing his loud little elf.

“Good morning to you too, Winky, what on Earth is so important-”

Draco stops talking when he sees the front of the day’s paper.

Sirius is there, in a fucking suit, Remus by his side, and that’s not nearly strange enough because the Daily Prophet decided to add a picture of Harry from the Tournament.

Winky hands it to him before he can snatch it.

“Sirius Black: As Pure As Snow?” He locks eyes with Winky, who nods so excitedly her ears flop, “Black, unfairly persecuted fourteen years ago _pleads innocent?!_ ….never had a trail…... _Lucius Malfoy_ , along with the help of _Percy Weasley_ , secured an innocent man his right to trail….. _under Veritaserum Sirius Black has been deemed innocent of all charges?!...._ plans on _adopting his rightful godson Harry Potter?!”_ His mouth is stretching out in an grin that hurts, he’s squeezing LuLu so hard she’s hissing and-and-

Draco rushes out of bed, running all the way down to the dining room with the newspaper in hand. He skirts right up to the head of the table and slaps it down in front of his father with his grin still pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got him cleared?!”

“We tried,” Narcissa daps her mouth, “But you weren’t listening last night.”

He’s giddy for so many reasons, so happy that he throws his arms around his father without a second thought. “Thank you…. _thank you!”_

Merlin this summer just got so much better.

He can take Sirius to the little shops in Diagon Alley.

He can see _Harry._

Harry won’t have to be around those awful care takers!

“Master Blaise and Misses Pansy are here for Master Draco.” Sisily pops in to tell them. Draco runs out to the living room, not caring at all that he’s still in his pajamas.

“Did you hear?!” Pansy asks, waving her own paper.

“Yes!”

“I can’t believe-”

“I know it-”

They’re all laughing and giddy, and then he notices that neither of them are in pajamas, and it’s only nine in the morning….

“Oh good.”

Draco turns to see Narcissa, leaning casually against the railing in what she calls ‘casual clothes’ that’s really her sparring uniform. “You’re here early, come grab breakfast before we start.”

“Start?”

She raises her eyebrow, “Did you listen to anything I said in the car two days ago?”

No. No he did not because he was very concerned about his father, and getting to talk to Harry, but she doesn’t need to know any of that-

“Your selective listening is worse than mine, dear. Come along, I’ll explain your training over breakfast.”

Draco blinks twice, but Blaise and Pansy push him forward and the scratches he got from LuLu _did_ hurt so he can’t be dreaming. Maybe he just heard Narcissa wrong.

“Training?”

She doesn’t answer, just offers him a coy smile that makes his stomach feel like led.

Oh well, at least it’s an improvement from last summer. Or it is until he, Blaise, and Pansy are face to face with their mothers, Severus, and Lucius. 

“Are we in trouble again?” Draco asks. He’s assuming they’re not going to be secretly served Veritaserum considering that they’re all in workout clothes, but then again, he wouldn’t put it past his mother to sprinkle the stupid potion into their yard fertilizer. 

“Not quite.”

“Don’t trick them, Narcissa,” Mrs. Katherine Parkinson’s sighs, “You’ll make them think this will be easy.”

“Please mum, whenever you three get together it never ends well for us.”

Pansy has a point, Draco is admittedly nervous. Blaise and his mother portray the exact same aloofness to the untrained eye, but Draco picks up on Belle’s eagerness and Blaise’s exasperation. 

“None sense.” Katherine says, “If you’d listen to me in the car you’d know what’s happening.”

“She didn’t listen as well? I swear Draco’s worse than I am about tuning people out.”

Lucius badly hides a laugh, Draco glares at both his parents for good measure. He’ll trick them later. Put salt in their coffee or something just as annoying. 

“I do believe that may be my doing,” Severus frowns, “And to answer your questions, we are at the beginning of a war, that is all the reasoning you need to be trained.”

Narcissa takes a step forward. “We’ll deal with three categories; dueling, sneaking, and heritage. Don’t give me that look Draco, we both know how powerful Pureblood lines are. It would be foolish of us not to utilize our ancestor’s gifts.”

Draco thinks his mother completely misread his expression. He’s not nervous. He’s _excited._

If he’s lucky, and this shit pays off, he might get to fulfill his dream of punching Tom Riddle right in his wannabe-snake face.


	2. To Make a Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As great as killing the Dursleys' would be, no one has the time to cover that up today and they probably wouldn’t send a fifteen year-old to jail but they can never be too careful.

“Like hell I can’t adopt him!”

Dumbledore looks a little taken aback, and it’s about to get a lot worse.

He’d called in the big guns for this day.

Thanks to Lucius and Percy, _Sirius Black_ is now officially _not_ a murderer, but he _is_ gay so the papers still have something to antagonize him about. His first course of action after being cleared? Bullying Dumbledore into letting him give his god damn godson a mother fucking _home._

Which is how he ended up in his old headmaster’s office with a collection of people his younger self never thought was possible. Narcissa stands beside him, arms crossed and dangerous as always. Lucius actually took a seat, smart move on his part, they’ve been arguing for thirty minutes. Strangely enough, if he’d bet on it he would’ve lost, Molly and Arthur Weasley are also here to back him up, and getting along _swimmingly_ with the Malfoys.

Though, he has to say, at least he understands that one. Draco’s saved Ron and Harry, Ron and Harry have saved Draco, not to mention the whole ordeal with that Ginny child and Luna… yeah, the Weasleys and the Malfoys have reasons to get along.

The part he doesn’t understand is why Snape is here too, glaring at Dumbledore like one would glare at a child.

“Albus,” the potion-master says calmly, “We both know the old spell doesn’t hold the boy now. Riddle has his blood, he can be touched, a little house filled with assholes isn’t going to do anything but hurt the boy.”

“Strange for you to speak for his favor, Severus.”

Sirius has to agree with Dumbledore on that one. Never in his life could he have predicted this moment.

“Your goal, Albus has been to protect him.” Molly reminds him, “If Riddle already has a hold on him then Severus is right, there is no need to force him into that position!”

“They abuse him! Harry deserves better and you know it.”

Merlin, he’s never loved Molly and Arthur more than he does right now.

Dumbledore would probably disagree, “It matters not, the boy is attached, it wouldn’t be kind to remove him from a stable environment-”

 _“Stable environment?!”_ Godric help him, “You call starvation a _stable environment_ one more time and I’ll burn your beard off!”

“Now, now, Sirius.” Narcissa grabs his arm, the lights get a little brighter. Oops, he didn’t mean to do that, “Albus, you and I both know how your reputation is fairing, I think it would be wise-”

“No.” Sirius shakes his arm loose. “No….let me tell you what’s going to happen. Remus is picking Harry up tomorrow, when I get home I’ll offer him the adoption papers. He is going to have a _home._ Do you understand me, Albus, a _home._ Where he knows people love him. Where he can have friends and mentors and not be left like some abused house elf on standby for your bloody war! And you can’t say a Godric-forsaken thing about it!”

“Actually I can-”

“No you can’t.” The room looks over to Lucius, yawning in his chair, “I wrote the adoption papers myself, I looked at the _will_ Albus. According to James and Lily Potter, Harry should never have met the Dursley’s in the first place. He was left to Sirius, and if Sirius were incapable, Remus. If both of them were gone, by the Potter’s word, he should’ve been taken into _your_ care. You signed off on that paper, so it’s curious that Harry encountered them at all….” 

Lucius stands, idly brushing invisible lint off his smaller arm, “Not that it matters anymore, of course. Percy and I ensured Sirius’s freedom, and I doubt you’ll get the chance to look over the papers at the rate you’re going so I’ll summarize clause 1 of section 3; upon signing, the only people who have any remote control over Harry are Sirius, Remus, and whoever they entrust to look after him.” Lucius raises a single blonde eyebrow, “So, not you.” 

He knows Narcissa told him not to kiss her husband, but he deserves a kiss for that. A full, snog-you-breathless kiss. Sirius only hopes a bottle of wine and one of Remus’s chocolate cakes will do. 

Lucius joins his wife’s side, easily linking their fingers together. Narcissa smiles at him in a way Sirius kinda missed. The full, completely in-love, stuck in the heart type of way that he hasn’t seen since they were students.

“It’s settled then.” Holy fuck, is Severus _smiling?!_ “Potter will live with Remus and Sirius, good. Now that we’ve taken care of that, would you care to beg Sirius for your original question, or perhaps you can apologize to the Malfoys and Weasleys, and myself of course, for this fruitless waste of time.” 

Dumbledore glares at him, Sirius is still trying to figure out of this Snape is the real Snape.

“You had a question?” Molly asks, also fair because that is rare in itself.

“A request, though one might find it a bit imposing now.” Dumbledore frowns, “I originally requested to speak with you about your house.”

“My house?”

“Yes, I wanted to use it for Order meetings. Narcissa and Lucius, I am well aware where your loyalties lie, and I should tell you that I plan on allowing Draco to join-”

“You want my _son_ in your organization that has a _seventy-percent death rate?!”_

Sirius absently flicks some of Narcissa’s rising hair off his shoulder. He’s opening his mouth to protest but Severus beats him to it.

“Absolutely not! Allowing him to play spy is one thing, but I refuse to push him into the middle of a war! He’s a _child._ Just like Potter, we _cannot_ expect _children_ to be the backbone of another war! It didn’t work then, it won’t work now, and all you’ll end up with is dead bodies and angry parents.”

Narcissa glares at both of them, “So you’re the idiot that has my son convinced he wouldn’t get himself killed during battle. I ought to hang you by your toes, Albus Dumbledore! Or let Lucius torture you! 

“No wonder he and the other children think they can keep secrets, you’ve been _lying_ to them!” Molly has never looked dangerous before, “Do you think this is a game?! These are my kids!”

“I was just asking for a base of operations-”

“And you’ll get it.” Sirius says calmly. “Under a few conditions. Tomorrow morning the papers with my cleared name will drop, I will adopt Harry and you won’t say a single word about it. When you hold order meetings, Narcissa, Lucius, and Belle will be invited. In addition, Harry and Draco will sit in on the meetings, keep your hair down, Narcissa. Harry is bound to be in the middle of whatever mess Riddle stirs up, and wherever Harry goes Draco typically is there to protect him anyways. Not informing them would just put them more at risk, and I refuse to make Harry hide in his own house.” 

Narcissa is glaring again, but her hair is calming down so that’s a start. Molly looks like she wants to protest, but after last year she’s more than willing to do anything to keep Harry safe. 

Dumbledore has that stupid twinkle in his eye again.

“I agree to your terms and conditions.”

\----------

Out of all the things to forget after his Big and Important speech to Dumbledore, he _would_ forget the fucking adoption papers.

“You’re not that bright, Uncle Sirius.”

“Shut up Draco.”

Draco considers egging on his cousin more, but Narcissa whopped his ass less than five hours ago and he has to admit; he’s fucking _tired._

So instead he rolls to the left side of the couch so he can peer at his parents and Sirius.

“I’ve highlighted the important bits I think Dumbledore might try to ignore,” His father is saying, “Percy and I have all the changed paperwork completed and waiting for signatures so we can input it into the Records. Don’t forget that you’ll need to get his medical paperwork updated as soon as possible.”

Narcissa places a hand on Sirius’s arm, “We have a family physician we can contact for you at the drop of a hat, we wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of him, you, _or_ Remus, which reminds me, you should probably just set up a session for all three of you so everything is on a file...just in case. I’ve included a list of floo networks he might find useful and the pronunciation because Draco said he struggles sometimes.”

Sirius snorts at them, but his thanks is so sincere it almost makes Draco uncomfortable. “I assume he’s expected to join your little training camp?”

“Obviously. He does need to learn about his heritage, and I understand he’s supposed to be extremely powerful, but he’s still just a boy. He’s like Draco, all power and limited control.”

“Hey!” Draco rolls from the couch to the floor so he can stand and properly glare. “My control is better than Pansy’s and Blaise’s! Also, it’s only day _one,_ I’d say my control is _wonderful_ for someone my age.”

“Of course that’s what you’d say, love,” Narcissa squishes his cheek, “Wait a month or two and we’ll see if that opinion has changed.”

Lucius sends him a small smile, which is just a kind form of agreement so he frowns at both of them and turns to Sirius who has yet to insult him.

“Are you going to pick Harry up today?”

“Ah, Remus already has him, I just wanted to get the papers so we can get all the paperwork over today.”

“Can I come see him tomorrow?”

All three adults raise their eyebrows, “You want to _wait?”_

“Yes? Harry needs time to move in and if you’re doing paperwork he’ll probably be tired, Merlin, I don't suppose he’s even picked a bedroom yet, hm? No, he needs a day to get settled and _then_ I can come by and see him. But I get to come first. Got it? Blaise and Pansy will have to wait.”

Sirius chuckles at him, “What about Ron and Hermione?”

Fuck, they _do_ have best friend privileges'…

“I suppose they can come too….they _are_ best friends and I distinctly remember a saying about friends being more important than partners.”

Sirius outright laughs at that.

A few more reminders from Lucius and Narcissa later and Sirius is on his way out, which means Draco has to dive into his ‘homework’.

Which he does find extremely pointless and time-consuming.

He’s a pureblood, all purebloods have their ancestors memorized by the age of ten. He knows the Malfoy line started an extremely long time ago, he knows that a Roman famous person is involved at some point, and recently he knows that his father and his grandfather had trouble connecting to the family magic. 

The Black side is a little more interesting, but that’s just because of his mother’s Veela grandmother that caused quite the scandal. If it weren’t for the fact that his grandmother is...well the way she is, she would’ve been disowned like her father. Fortunately, Blacks cared about image just as much as the Malfoys did and a reunited child who was stolen by a mad veela sounds better in the Daily Prophet than ‘Black Son Fucked by Veela, Heir to Black Fortune Now a Half-Breed?” Also, if he thinks about it, the disgrace was probably more on the fact that Veelas create light and the Black line is riddled with Shadow Magic. Oh well, either way it’s information he already knows so having to reread it all from family accounts is just boring.

History lessons would be much more fun if he could call someone….which gives him a thought.

Draco puts his book to the side, picking up LuLu so he can carry her down to the main living room where his parents are.

LuLu, the little sadistic monster, spent the morning watching three Slytherins get their asses handed to them by equally sadistic parents, and then had the audacity to nap with Draco’s snake who _still_ won’t acknowledge him. And he gets it, he’d be pissed if he had an owner and owner let someone maul him, but it wasn’t like Draco _intended_ for the snake to get hurt! It’s been two years already, if anything he’s surprised Polly has managed to hold her grudge, but snakes are Harry’s deal, not his. Also a little shady that Polly will hang out with LuLu, his evil little Kneazle, and not him, who is arguably a lot nicer. 

Whatever. Maybe he can get Harry to talk to her and find out what the deal is.

“Draco? You’ve been standing there for a minute, love, why don’t you come sit?”

“I was enjoying the sunset,” Draco says to hide the fact that he was debating forcing his boyfriend to talk to his temperamental snake.

His mother thankfully doesn’t pick up on his cover, smiling softly at the sky outside that is rather breathtaking. To be fair, any view from this room is stunning, she set it up that way. Windows look out to the gardens, right where the main fountain is, and the water always manages to catch any light perfectly. 

“Did you have a question?” Lucius asks, setting down his book. His arm is looking better already, Draco will have to take a close look at it tonight. 

“Yes actually.”

Both of his parents sit a little straighter, Narcissa actually sets her book down, which he wasn’t expecting.

“Well, we’re no longer pretending to be evil, and Arthur Weasley seems to think he’s in our debt, so I was wondering if the house would collapse if we had a few Weasley’s and a muggle-born over.”

“You want to have Ron and Hermione over?” 

Draco nods. He doesn't think Narcissa will have a problem with it, he’s just unsure about his dad. Lucius has been doing a lot of reforming, and Draco needs to know where his boundaries are. What better way to find out than putting him on the spot in front of his very liberal and scary wife?

“I don’t see why not.” Lucius says, “I’ve been wanting to ask that Ronald child about his brother’s uncanny government knowledge.”

“Yes, and I’d be thrilled to meet the girl who gives my son a run for his money.”

Draco doesn’t gape at the response. He doesn’t, he just has to struggle to keep his mouth shut is all.

“So the house won’t fall over?”

“Of course not, silly. If anything I’d say the house likes our new direction.”

With the way the sun is setting on their family living room, all light and happy, warm and safe, he’d have to agree.

\----------

“They really did a number on you, huh?”

Harry shrugs. He’s had worse, but saying that probably wouldn’t do anything but make Remus angrier, and that doesn’t seem like a nice thing to do to the man who rescued him from the Dursleys. 

“You’re allowed to talk, you know. If anyone tells you not to talk unless spoken to I will personally rip them limb from limb.”

Harry laughs despite his current position. 

Remus deemed him in need of medical attention, but he did recognize that having Draco come over and heal him wouldn’t be the best idea. As great as killing the Dursleys' would be, no one has the time to cover that up today and they probably wouldn’t send a fifteen year-old to jail but they can never be too careful.

So, instead of calling Draco over, Remus sat him on the kitchen counter and had an elf bring him supplies. 

“Is that a perk of being a werewolf?”

Remus winks at him, “Don’t tell anyone, okay? But the strength is rather nice, it was especially useful during renovations.”

The renovations, well, what he’s seen so far, are stunning. Like one of those magazines Petunia likes to look at, the ones that Vernon always called her crazy for because they were ‘too expensive’. Harry finds it extremely funny that Remus is casually spilling alcohol on a countertop that’s probably worth more than Petunia’s entire china collection. 

“It’s our secret.”

“Keeping secrets already?”

Harry goes to turn his head but Remus stops him, grabs his chin and dabs something on there. He can’t _see_ Sirius come in, but he does hear him set something down and walk until he’s peering over Remus’s shoulder.

The way blood drains from his face can’t be healthy.

Sirius doesn’t push Remus out of the way, but that’s only because Remus moves before he can. Sirius pulls him in for a hug, pulls back and grabs him by the chin, and then frowns and speaks in what sounds like rapid fire Latin so quickly Harry needs a second to process it.

“Honey, your rant would be much better in English.”

Sirius doesn’t even bother glaring, he just hugs Harry again. “Who did this? Are you okay? Was it those Muggles? I know I can’t kill them for a bit but I can find a way to-”

“We can’t hex them Sirius.”

“Why not?”

“Because then we’d be in _jail_ and we can’t adopt Harry if we’re in prison.”

“I didn’t say we’d get caught, we’d have Narcissa and Draco on our side, they’re stealthy little monsters and perfect for the job.”

“We’re not jeopardizing Draco’s future for revenge.”

Sirius pouts, fingers gently prodding at Harry’s bruised eye. “Narcissa would never let her son get caught, right Harry? Why are you being so quiet, hm? It’s because I’m right, right?”

Harry nods again, a force of habit for when he’s not at Hogwarts, and then remembers what Remus said about speaking. “Yes, you’re right.”

Sirius frowns at him. “Are you okay?”

Harry goes to respond, but Remus cuts him off and spills _everything._ Well, everything he saw, which makes Sirius so pissed the lights start doing weird things and ends with the elf shooing them out of the kitchen because Sirius accidentally busted a few light bulbs and completely ruined the bananas. 

“Okay…” Sirius takes a deep breath, “Okay...okay we can’t kill them. We’re going to out parent the fuck out of them and I’m going to make Narcissa help me hurt them through completely legal and respectable ways.”

Harry’s not sure if he’s meant to hear that, he pretends he didn’t just in case. 

The elf pops in with tea and the papers Sirius left in the kitchen, offering Harry a piece of lemon cake, he's _got_ to learn the tiny creature's name. 

“Alright, kiddo,” Remus pats Sirius’s back as he talks, “Today is the crappy paperwork day. We have an agenda of sorts, but we’re going to have to have a few talks first.”

Is he in trouble already? He just got here!

“First thing’s first, you are safer here than you are at Hogwarts, got it? If someone so much as looks at you funny in this house they’ll be kicked out immediately. We love you and will give Narcissa a run for her money with our protectiveness. That means you’re free, okay? You can say what you want, do what you want, wear what you want. Okay?”

Harry nods, and then thinks better and says “Okay. Got it.”

“Great. Second thing is, well it’s a big one. Remus and I talked a lot about it last year, and if you’d like, we can adopt you.”

Harry freezes. Some of the lemon cake gets caught in his throat.

“It won’t affect anything if you say no. You’ll still live here, nothing Remus said would change, we just. Well, do you remember your Christmas letter? Your family was ripped from you, and I know you have a new family now, but I thought it’d be nice to have a legal one. If you want it, of course, I mean if you-”

“Yes.” Harry swallows quickly, “Yes absolutely, I just, yes. Would I have to call you dad?”

“Merlin, no. James is your dad, we’re just becoming your legal guardians, and since you said yes and Sirius is now in tears, I’ll start the paperwork.”

Harry reaches over to grab the papers out of instinct. He’s always filled out his own information. Aunt Petunia taught him to write early specifically so that she wouldn’t have to bother with him. Although, he will need the new address but that can be found in legal documents when he’s cleaning.

“Harry? I can write, you know. For Godric’s sake I’m not going to make you fill out a legal change of address.”

“Sorry, force of habit.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, but Harry’s not a huge fan of talking about childhood trauma with anyone that isn’t Ron and Hermione and he has his limits with them too. 

They begin with a change of address for Hogwarts because it’s the quickest. Then they set an appointment with some dude named Leo on Friday for medical documents. Remus hands him a packet that reads _“Magical Teenage Adoption Consent Information”_ so they can go over all the finer points and he has to admit. He’s kinda happy Lucius didn’t die last year for this packet alone. Then he has to go through a long series of signatures. It’s awful and time consuming, and then Sirius says something even worse.

“Alright, as you know Remus and I are very new to this, but we do have some ground rules. Follow me, kid.”

Harry knows he’s safe. He fucking knows it, but he can’t help the shiver of anxiety that goes down his spine. Sirius leads the way back to the kitchen, right to a little empty chalkboard by the back door. 

“This is our rule board. There’s a chalk stick for me, Remus, _and_ you. Okay? Right now there are only three rules on this board, but if you want to add more you can.”

Harry almost laughs at the ‘rules’ popping up. They’re more like advice if he’s honest.

  * _Don’t fail out_


  * Eat Food


  * Don’t hesitate to come to us if you need something



Sirius hands him a chalk stick.

“Go on, write something. Anything you want.”

Harry looks at the two of them and then shrugs. He walks up to the little board and writes _‘no lying to family’._ Sirius smiles, Remus pats his shoulders. 

It’s progress he supposes.

“I think that’s enough for the night, hm? I’m gonna take you upstairs so you can pick a room, Remus can you get dinner started with Kreecher. Oh shit! Kreecher!”

Harry’s confused for a second and then the little elf from before pops into the room.

“Kreecher! Come over here, I’d like to introduce you to someone very special.” 

Kreecher is a bit smaller than Winky, a little more scrawny and not nearly as cheeky in the face. He approaches respectfully, not like he’s scared though, which is a lot better than his first experience with an elf. 

“This is Harry Potter. He’s my godson, the one we’ve been talking about adopting? He’ll be living with us from now on.”

Harry extends a hand because he doesn’t know what else to do. Kreecher makes a token attempt to hide his amusement, bowing instead of shaking Harry’s hand. 

“It is an honor to serve Harry Potter as Young Master.”

Blood rushes to his cheeks because _who the hell calls people Young Master?!_ “Um, thank you, it’s, uh, nice to meet you too.”

“Not used to house elves?”

Harry shakes his head. “Winky and Dobby are more like friends if I’m honest.”

Sirius laughs.

They go upstairs, leaving Remus and Kreecher to figure out dinner. All in all there are ten rooms for him to choose from. The first is all rose pink and pistachio green, the bed is too big and has way too many pillows so he skips it. Second is the brown room, and it reminds him way too much of the Dursleys living room. He closes that door in two seconds and thanks Godric above that Sirius doesn’t ask questions. Next is the crème bedroom, way too bright and reminds him a bit of Aunt Marge if he’s honest, so that’s another no. 

The fourth room is the one.

He’s not really sure how he knows it, but he opens the door and it’s like being punched in the face with the word ‘yes’.

It’s smaller than the others, but still bigger than Aunt Petunia’s master bedroom. Unlike her house, the woods in the room are light and inviting, the walls aren’t white but something close to it, and the window seal is painted a dark green color. He can already hear his friends playing the ‘Slytherin Color’ card but he couldn’t care less about the green. It’s the golden snitch flying lazily around the matte emerald that catches his eye. The bed is pushed into an alcove with a small skylight. Fuck the snitch, the bed looks heavenly too. Sirius mentions something about satin sheets and pillow cases, but Harry’s focused on the actual bedding. Sure, the sheets are soft as fuck, but the blue and purple patterned bedspread currently has his focus. The longer he looks at it the more colors he sees. Like turquoise, yellow, red, pink, green-

“Harry? Are you okay.”

Yeah, yeah he is. Harry turns away from the bed to inspect the desk, a nice light wooden color that’s perfect for school work. There’s a bookshelf by the closet, a maroon couch right next to it with colorful pillows that shimmer in the moonlight. On the other side of the room is a clean bathroom with a bathtub big enough for Vernon to fit comfortably. 

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow, get you clothes and all that. I hope you don’t mind if Ron, Hermione, and Draco join us.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “I get to see them?”

“Of course silly,” Sirius scoffs, coming up to put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s like Remus and I keep saying, you’re in our care now, and we’ll do anything to make you happy.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that so he just throws his arm around his god-father and calls it a day.

\----------

Hermione arrives first the following morning. She barely tells Remus and Sirius ‘hello’ before she’s hugging him and ranting about child abuse laws that the ministry doesn’t bother with and how she ought to have the Dursleys thrown in muggle prison because she knows those laws too. Her onslaught is stopped only by the arrival of the Weasleys because if Ron gets to visit then everyone else does. 

Which means the living room is swamped in red and Sirius has to hold Molly back because if he doesn’t get to hurt the Dursleys then she doesn't either.

“Don’t worry ma,” Fred glares as Ginny inspects his eyes and hands.

George isn’t happy either, “There’s always that Christmas basket we forgot to send.”

Ron and Hermione perk up at the idea, but Arthur frowns. “Boys. We can’t hurt muggles.”

“They’re just candies, dad, it’s nothing harmful.”

Highly doubtful, coming from angry twins and an angry Ginny. Arthur bids them goodbye before they can do anything foolish, like rip Petunia’s teeth from her mouth. He does slip Harry a gift of a small toy lion before they leave, Ron’s very annoyed by it.

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me sooner! I’ve been on the verge of grey hair worrying about each summer! I swear this is all payback for crashing his car in second year.”

Ron’s just finished his own rant when the floo fire lights up again and a herd of Slytherins step out, lead by a ruffled Draco, of course.

Draco’s eyes narrow the second he spots Harry, it’s scary enough that Ron and Hermione actually back away, but Narcissa just rolls her eyes so how bad can it be. Well, she rolls her eyes until she sees the reason her son is stalking towards him, then her eyes narrow and Harry experiences a fear like no other.

“Who did this to you?” 

His eyes flash in that beautiful grey way, his hair rises just enough to tickle the outskirts of Harry’s vision. Warm to the touch, soft and sweet like a roasted marshmallow. Only this marshmallow has killed for him and would probably do so again.

“Hello to you too, dear, I’ve had a lovely summer so far, yes I am happy to see our friends, and-”

“Harry James Potter.” Draco says, but his hair is dying down so whatever threat he intended to have is long gone. “Honestly, I should put wards on you, shouldn’t I?” He mumbles a few spells and Harry’s face feels loads better. Draco kisses him on the cheek, then pulls back to glare at Sirius.

“You should’ve come and gotten me!”

“Absolutely not. I refuse to let you burn my entire house down.”

“I’m not flaming right now, am I?”

“Actually,” Blaise muses, “I’d say you are. Flaming, that is. Now can you get out of the way so we can see Harry?”

Draco steps to the side, arguing more with Sirius while Blaise and Pansy greet him.

“Merlin I’m so excited to see you out of these! When Draco said we were taking you shopping we just had to come, advice and all that.”

“Don’t bully him Pans.”

“Oh shove off, I’ve been waiting to redo his closet.”

“We’re redoing my closet?”

Narcissa steps between them, holding her hand out for Harry to shake. “Closet? In the nicest way, love, you don’t have much of a closet to go off of. When Sirius owled me last night Lucius had to stop me from sending you clothes then and there. On the plus side, this is a perfect opportunity to test the waters, hm?”

“Mum!” Draco sighs, arm around Hermione’s shoulder. “You make it sound like a publicity stunt. And it is, of course, but it’s more of a declaration of war.”

Ron frowns, poking Draco’s shoulder. “A declaration of- _oh._ You’re all using this as a chance to draw lines, show people who you stand with.”

“Exactly.” Narcissa nods, “You’re a smart one, Ronald. And you, Miss Hermione Granger, I’ve heard you are the brightest witch of your age.”

Hermione flushes, “I wouldn’t go that far, ma’am, I just-”

“Nonsense,” Remus shakes his head, “All the teachers agree, and I doubt anyone in this room would say otherwise.”

“Professor Lupin!” Pansy smiles, “How lovely to see you so happy! I hear Draco’s uncle has that effect on people.”

“Yes, they make quite the couple, but they’re not as cute as Harry and I.”

“You’re right, you two are just disgusting.”

“Alright, alright.” Sirius puts his hands on his hips. In some weird, probably fucked up way, it reminds Harry of McGonagall. “Are the lot of you ready? We’ll give Kreecher a heart attack if we don’t let him deep clean today.”

Narcissa takes a brief headcount, she’s the first to go through the floo straight to Diagon Alley. In groups of two they disappear into the fire, and yes, Harry does take the opportunity to hold his boyfriend’s hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was a little late, I got stupidly drunk last night and forgot to post until tonight  
> also, I had someone dm me on tumblr and say that the long breaks between scenes is weird and I wanted to let y'all know that it's just a change between scenes. like the little ..... that people do sometimes or the boarders. does that make sense? let me know how you feel about it and i can think of a solution if it is confusing. also sorry if this isn't up to par, I usually read my chapters outloud to someone but they had a prior engagement today


	3. Of Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco, rooted to the floor all because someone put a suit on Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying out a new style! let me know if this is better

They make for an odd sight, and Draco understands this. He _does._ No one in a million years would ever peg a Malfoy to be friends with a Weasley, much less casually appear in public holding Harry Potter’s hand. But he’s sure stranger things have happened and it’s no excuse for the blatant stares they’re getting.

“Head tall. We’re almost to the next shop.” Sirius whispers to Harry, or maybe he’s saying it to Remus. They both look a little green in the face. 

Ron stays close to Harry’s side that Draco isn’t occupying, leaving Hermione, Pansy, and his mother to talk about whatever girls talk about. If he’s honest he can’t really follow what Blaise and Ron are talking about when Harry’s nearly vibrating next to him.

Draco squeezes his hand.

“We’re almost there love, a few more magic things and then we’re clothes shopping.”

“We can do that in the muggle world, right?” Harry whispers back. “Or do we have to get magical clothes too?”

“We’ll do both, of course!” 

Fuck. He didn’t mean for Pansy to hear them, but once one of them clues in they all do. Narcissa turns around with a smile that Draco can read, but he doubts Harry can see the kindness under all that ice.

“Not a fan of reporters, Harry?” 

“No ma’am.” Harry’s so cute when he’s trying to be polite. “I met this woman named Rita Seeker and well…”

“We all hate her, dear. Just follow my lead.”

Narcissa straightens her back, brushes back her hair, Draco just _knows_ she’s sending a glare towards anyone who looks in their general direction. She leads them the little way they have left with her head held high, Harry imitating her so poorly it makes Draco’s heart swell.

“Oh look at these new dragon boots!” 

Pansy’s squeal sends them all into a tizzy of sorts, Ron sticking close to Draco’s side because Draco isn’t really buying much. Well, he’s still getting two pairs of boots, a new cloak for himself (and a surprise one for Ron), gloves, and a small green handkerchief. His other one was ruined after the last Malfoy Gala when he was ten. 

“Are we nearly done? We’ve been at this for hours.”

Sirius shushes Remus as he holds up another shirt to the man, “It’s been two hours love, this is nothing.”

“You’ve gotten me a new wardrobe! This day was meant for Harry!”

“Yes, and it will help Harry if his guardians don’t dress in moth-eaten drawers because they have a completely mental sense of guilt!”

Draco turns away from them with a little laugh, dragging Ron over to Blaise and Narcissa for a chat so he can find what Pansy’s done with his poor boyfriend.

“I’m not sure, Pans, it’s not that I hate it...it just doesn't look right.”

Hermione’s gasp takes him over another row, “Harry! You look stunning!”

“I’ll say, look at how it brings out your waist, and your _arms!_ It’s all about the arms, you know.”

Draco rolls his eyes at Pansy’s usual bullshit. It is _not_ all about the arms, she just has a thing for muscles. Which, he admittedly gets because he also has a thing for Harry’s muscles-

He sucks in a lot of air, nearly choking on the spot as soon as he sees Harry. 

“We told you you looked good.” 

What a fucking understatement.

It’s like the Yule Ball all over again. Draco, rooted to the floor all because someone put a suit on Harry. A stunning, tight-fitting, satin emerald suit. 

“Are you going to stand there and gawk or kiss me?”

Draco clears his throat, “Do you really want a picture of us kissing on the front page of tomorrow’s newspaper?”

“Yes. That and one of me hugging Narcissa for good measure.”

Well, who is he to deny Harry? In that suit? On his first day of freedom? He is absolutely no one. 

One quick kiss and a few bags of clothes later and Narcissa is whisking them away to the muggle parts she deems shoppable. Harry apparently needs finer things in life, including, but never limited to, sweaters, t-shirts that actually fit, jeans that aren’t two sizes too big, sleeping clothes, socks without holes, shoes that don’t pinch, jackets, cashmere, silks, satins, you name it and Harry now probably has it. Yes, Ron and Hermione are right, the price tags are a little bit much, but it’s worth it every time Harry says ‘are you sure I’m allowed to have this?’ and his mother says ‘yes’.

  
  


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“I can’t believe my mum is letting me sleep over with a bunch of Slytherins.”

Blaise replies without missing a single beat, “Ronald, you once stole a car and got caught. Slytherins are the least of her worries.”

Harry badly hides a snort at that, and yes, Ron does elbow him in the side for it, but in his defense he can’t believe he’s allowed to have a sleepover _at all._

Much less with five friends, in his godfather’s house, happy and full.

He’s not really sure how it happened. He remembers stopping for lunch when Narcissa got hungry, he remembers Sirius talking about the renovations and a photographer snagging a picture of the teenagers bickering. He remembers the bad headache he got, Narcissa offering him a potion for it, Draco checking his temperature. He also remembers Blaise mentioning some weird training camp, and then Sirius was asking if anyone was staying over and now here they are.

All piled into the main living room with a book playing overhead on the ceiling, next to little stars Remus charmed to look like constellations. 

Draco rolls to his side, close enough for Harry to kiss if he wants to. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Harry smiles back. Maybe he will close that gap. Meet soft lips with his own, wind an arm around Draco’s waist, maybe even-

“Please don’t make out next to me. I’m begging you.”

“If you hadn’t slept on the floor beneath them you wouldn’t be having this problem, Ron.”

“Blaise, did I do something to you? You’ve been after me all day!”

“In Blaise’s defense, you did make a remark about his mother’s ‘lustful killing’ this afternoon.”

“Ronald! Don’t you know better than to insult someone’s mother?”

It’s nearing dark in the room, but Harry can still see the slow smile drag across Draco’s face, feel something stirring in his chest.

Right beneath his ribcage, blossoming like a flower in an unkept garden, flowing through his veins until he’s smiling back while his friends bicker in the background. It’s not quite nice, not unkind to his senses yet disturbing to how he usually feels during the summertimes. This feeling is usually reserved for Hogwarts, for sleepy nights in the Gryffindor tower, sneaking glances at Draco during potions, listening to Pansy and Blaise fight over whose outfit is better. 

“What are you thinking about?” Draco whispers. “You’ve been smiling through Belle’s moral debate.”

Harry blinks himself into focus. Sure enough, Ron and Blaise are still at it, and he can hear Pansy and Hemione giggling from their own shared couch. “It’s just...it’s very warm here, isn’t it? In your chest, I mean. It’s...it’s happy. And good.”

“Safe.” Draco nods, placing a warm pale hand right over the ache in Harry’s chest. “It’s safe here, and because it’s safe you’re allowed to feel happy. You do know that, don’t you? If the son of a Death Eater is allowed to feel joy then so are you, Scarface.”

Harry snorts, taking Draco’s hand in his just because he fucking can.

“It’s a shame that LuLu isn’t here.”

“Winky will bring her before the night’s over, she doesn't like to sleep without me-”

“Shut it! This is the best part!”

They both roll their eyes at Blaise’s call, turning to look and watch as letters in the shape of two men merge together, twirling on a pearl white ceiling. One man turns to the other, a gentle voice recites something about love. The words come together for a kiss.

“Ew.”

They all laugh when Blaise sends a pillows flying towards Ron’s head. Naturally that leads to a giant pillow fight, and Winky does drop in with a very needy LuLu that she deposits in the small space between Draco and Harry. Granted, that space doesn't last for very long before Draco and LuLu are both curled up on his stomach, his friend’s even breathing filling the room until he feels himself drifting off somewhere warm.

Like, uncomfortably warm.

Like, did someone start a fire in the middle of July while he’s wearing a sweater, warm? It’s quite literally _swealetering._ Beads of sweat trickle down his forehead, and where the hell is he?

The last time he checked, the main living room is not stone and he knows for a fact that Kreecher would freak if it ever became _this_ messy. Also, should moss be growing on the inside? It seems like a bit of a fire hazard. Especially the bit next to the blazing fire, though the first might explain the heat-

Something burns the side of his waist, right where Draco’s hand should be grabbing him.

_“Someone tell our guest that screaming is not polite.”_

Fuck.

He knows that voice. He’s heard it a lot in his probably cursed life. That last time he heard it was when his boyfriend’s dad lost his arm, and he was hoping that he’d get a few months before he heard it again. 

A masked-hooded maybe?- person stands before him, shoving a cloth into his mouth. It tastes like the vinegar cleaner Petunia likes to use.

Harry tries to peek around the room, to get a better view, but all he can make out is the stupid hooded figure, a short chubby rat-like man, and the one person he might actually hate. 

Riddle turns with beady red eyes and a smile that sends chills down Harry’s spine. _“Bring her closer. She’ll watch the fireworks with us.”_

Strong hands push him forward and he knows to scream. Maybe if someone hears him they can help him. He’ll die if he’s left like this, he’ll be tortured and-

At least the scenery for his death will be pretty. 

They’re in some sort of forest, trees filling the entire landscape with only a lake and a house to break them. From where they are the house seems like a cottage, something about it gives him joy. That house means something, but he can’t figure out what. 

Standing here he can at least see more than the three people behind him. He can make out details like moss on cold stone, firelight dancing against the stupid stuff, the feeling of a wooden floor, the sense of knowing exactly where he is. 

Harry feels tears slip down his cheek, and against his will he whispers. “No, no please-”

It happens all at once. 

The little cottage, the one that strikes such warmth into him bursts into flames. His body follows, he doesn’t even realize Riddle had a match until the flames lick up his legs and it hurts _holy fuck it hurts._ The only thing worse is the laughter that Riddle is screaming, but he’s not screaming. 

Red eyes lock onto Harry’s, the laughter fades. That stupid snake-like face turns stone cold, like a realizaiton in the making just slapped him in the face. 

His eyes grow wide, he starts toward Harry, what an idiot. Why would he come towards the fire-

“Harry!”

He tries to open his eyes, he does, but Riddle is there, smiling in that creepy weird way, like he _knows_ something. 

_“How nice of you to join us, Har-”_

“HARRY!”

The water that splashes across his face is freezing in comparison with the room he was in.

Only, Harry sits straight up on the same couch he fell asleep on. In the same room with the same furniture, the same pictures of Remus and Sirius on the walls, the same carpet, so many things to indicate that he never left.

But he did leave.

He had to leave. He _had_ to! How could he be in two places at once? That’s not possible. Even with magic there has to be some time turner involved and Hermione’s isn’t stupid enough to-

“Hey.” 

Hermione’s calming brown eyes come into view. Something is gripping tight on his shoulder. “Harry. Look at me. Stay with me, okay?” Something grips at his shirt, a solid weight runs trails on his back. “Can you breathe in?”

He tries, he does, but it taste like smoke and-

“Inhale, Harry. Just like this.”

Hermione breaths in like it’s nothing, so Harry tries it and it comes out like a stuttering mess. Still, she tells him to try again and the trails on his back don’t stop for a second. They work together until he can breath without smelling smoke and only then does he notice the oddities of the night.

LuLu’s little head rests on his thigh, the Slytherins all crowd around to his left with worried looks, Sirius and Remus occupy the right corner with similar faces, and he can’t find Ron. Oh _Godric._ Was Ron the one who-

“Hey mate.” Ron’s head appears from behind him like a ghost appears from thin air. “You gave us quite the scare. Not as bad as you did Neville first year, huh?”

Harry huffs out a laugh because _yeah,_ that had been bad. He lets his head hang back so he can fully catch his breath and start piecing the bits together.

“There was a, a um, a tower, maybe? We were high up. And I-I don’t know who I was this time, but _he_ was there. Riddle, I mean. Him and Wormtail? And-and there was this cottage, and a lot of trees, a little lake by the mountains. I didn’t want him to, I asked him not to, and then he did. The cottage, I mean. Blew the whole thing up, and then I….the fire was so hot, ‘Mione...”

Hermione rubs down his arms. “It’s okay. You’re here, and you’re safe. Okay?”

“Okay.” Harry nods back, and then takes stock of his situation. Second night in and he’s already causing trouble. Not just for Sirius and Remus but his friends too.

Pansy steps forward with a smile that’s only slightly shaken, “Hey, Harry-Hare. Your shirt has never looked worse.”

“Sweat is very last season,” Blaise adds, “It would’ve looked great for the Triwizard Tournament though.”

Harry snorts. “Will I ever be fashionable?”

“Afraid not, Potter-Poppet.” Remus smiles. “Why don’t you go wash up and Sirius and I will get everyone settled.”

Harry wants to protest, but he _did_ just soak his godfather’s second favorite couch, so he stands on shaky legs and lets Ron walk him over to his godparents. He expects to go right past them, but Remus and Sirius both stop him for a hug. “We’ll have to steal Ron away from you, but Draco can take you upstairs.”

He’s honestly surprised that Ron doesn’t protest, but then he takes one look into Draco’s tightly concealed eyes and understands why.

They don’t talk until they’re inside Harry’s bathroom and he finds himself shaking in his boyfriend’s arms. 

“Sorry, I just. I need to-”

Draco shushes him, rubbing his back like Ron had. “I’m getting to hold my boyfriend, why on Earth would you apologize for such a thing?”

For a while neither of them move. They stand in Harry’s bathroom that’s too big for comfort, so close that Harry might as well be a leech.

“Come on, love. You’ll feel better once you’ve showered.”

“Have you had them before? The nightmares, I mean.”

Draco pauses, hand halting right over the shower nozzle. “Yes. I had horrid ones in third year, Severus gave me some Calming Draught. But you’re not getting any until you’ve showered.”

“Are they supposed to feel like this? It feels like the one I had about Barty Jr. and that old man.” 

Harry shucks off his shirt and pants, appreciating how cute it is that Draco still blushes and looks away when his shirt is off. 

“You had one about Barty Jr?”

“Yeah, he was in this house and this old guy got killed, it’s uh, it’s a long story.”

Draco snorts, bringing him close for a kiss on the nose. He leaves Harry to shower, but doesn't go far. No, he sits outside on Harry’s bed with LuLu until Harry reemerges in a big sweater and shorts that _aren’t_ drenched with water and sweat.

“I had Kreecher bring me a vile from the Black storages, but Sirius came in and told me to bring you down for hot chocolate. It’ll help with the taste.”

Harry groans, because potions typically taste like ass, but he and Draco march down the stairs anyways.

“-Did you know? Merlin, he was screaming so loud I thought he’d been murdered.” Sirius is saying. Draco catches his arm, pulling him back before they can interrupt whatever conversation his godfathers are having.

“I didn’t,” Remus sounds more stressed than he does the week of a full moon. “He didn’t have them the year I was at Hogwarts but you heard what Ron and Hermione said….If they’re happening every year do you think we should talk to him about seeing that Mind Healer Draco is going to see? He might have some stuff he’s working through and just not comfortable talking to us about it.”

“We can ask...I just. I don’t want him to deal with any of it anymore. He deserves to be happy, Merlin, Remus, he’s never gotten a chance to have a regular childhood. You know Lily and James would never stand for it. They should’ve run away to Persia when he was born.”

“And then what? Would they have hidden their magic away? You remember the witch-hunts happening back then, James wouldn’t have endangered Lily like that, much less Harry.”

Sirius lets out a long sigh, “You’re right, I can’t see either of them anywhere but that stupid little cottage.”

“It was a lovely cottage. And look, I know you’re worried, but he’s been through a lot. All we can do is be here for him now. If he wants to see a Mind Healer, I know you and Narcissa will get the best one possible. If he doesn’t, we’ll work around it. Either way, we can give him something he hasn’t had in a long time.”

“What? A bed?” Harry blushes. He kinda guessed that Sirius would stay mad about that for a while.

“No you idiot. _Love._ Safety. Security. A _home._ We’re already making Lily and James proud, so if we do right by Harry, I think we can make him happy at the very least.”

Sirius chuckles at that, “You’re quite sappy for a werewolf.”

“Call me a special breed, babe-”

Draco choses that moment to burst open the doors, like Harry’s heart isn’t stuck in his throat, like he’s not having a crisis at the warmth flooding through his chest. But it’s fine. He can totally get through a glass of hot chocolate without crying. 

Sirius and Remus jump apart when they enter, surprise soon replaced with easy smiles.

“Have a nice shower?” Sirius asks, and Harry knows it might be a little weird, but it doesn't stop him from walking right up to his loveable degenerate and hugging him.

“Sorry if I scared you, I guess I should’ve warned you.” He says quickly, pulling away and noticing the lack of cups. “Where is everyone else?”

“In bed.” Remus hands him and Draco a mug, ruffling each of their hairs just because he can. “We put the boys in the brown room and gave the girls Narcissa’s pink room for the evening. But nevermind that, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. They happen every now and then, it’s a little freaky, actually.”

Sirius pulls out a few chairs, “What do you mean?”

“Well, they don’t happen often, and this is a little weird, so hear me out.” Godric, they really don’t have to look like the sky is falling. “In first year I kept having dreams about Professor Quil and then Riddle was in the back of his head. In second year I kept having dreams about snakes and someone dying and then Riddle was trying to kill children, and I got a break fourth year, but in fifth year they were awful too. I had a dream about some old groundskeeper dying, and about that Barty Crouch guy working with Riddle, and then _boom!_ Now he’s back. Hermione thinks I might be able to see into his head, but Ron thinks I just have incredibly insightful nightmares.”

All three of them blink at him, which is fair. And yeah, he’s pretty open about it because it feels like the sort of thing to talk about. Plus, when you live in a dorm it’s nearly impossible _not_ to wake your roomates up when you’re screaming. 

Sirius holds up his drink like he’s going to take a sip, but puts it back down instead. “Right. _Right._ Harry, do you know anything about occlumency?”

“Occa-who?”

  
  
  


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“Occlumency is the art of closing your mind, think of it like a shield but for your thoughts, actions, and feelings. It’s a wonder no one thought to teach you this before, the Dark Lord is one of the most skilled Legilimens in the world.”

Harry has never been more thankful that he and Draco haven’t had sex. It's bad enough that pictures of him and Draco kissing are smeared across the day's papers. But at least those are just _kisses._ The thought of Lucius Malfoy, the dude who lost an arm last year, also known as his boyfriend’s father, penetrating his mind is eased very much by the fact that he has yet to penetrate the man’s son. Or be penetrated, they really should talk about it beforehand, maybe Draco will have read a book about it so it’s easier-

“Are you ready, Mr. Potter?”

“Harry.” He states, pushing all thoughts of penetration and Draco very, _very_ far away. “Call me Harry, sir. And yes, uh, this is just to see if it feels the same, right? I’m not actually doing anything?”

Lucius smiles at him and Godric it’s such a weird sight. Nice, but still very strange. “Yep. We’re just doing this to see if it feels the same. On three. One. Two. Three-”

Why is he looking at himself? What is-

With no effort at all Lucius brings back the smoke. He can feel it, the burning, the pain, the sadness all over again. And in an instant it’s gone, and Harry’s left panting on the floor of the Malfoy’s ridiculous library in their ridiculously big house with his boyfriend’s ridiculous father who’s handing him a ridiculous glass of water.

“Apologies, I should’ve warned you that the first time is always the worst.”

Harry frowns at him, but accepts the water anyways.

“Did it feel similar?”

“Yes sir.” Harry takes a few gulps, though he should probably only be taking sips. “I-it felt like it was happening again and I don’t-”

Lucius grimaces, “It’s okay, Harry,” Godric his first name sounds weird coming from the man who’s exclusively called him _Pottah_ since their first meeting. “Deek!”

Harry is extremely confused until a little elf pops in with a low bow.

“Could you fetch Katherine for me? I believe her and Pansy are in the evergrove.”

Deek nods, and vanishes without a single word.

“Ah, don’t mind him. He’s never been an elf of many words.”

“Very different from Winky and Dobby, though Kreecher doesn’t say much either.”

Lucius laughs, honest to fucking laughs, with Harry sitting on his plush white carpet. “Yes, well, the younger elves are very different to the elder ones. That Winky is in a league of her own, did Draco tell you she’s been making Malfoy uniforms?”

Now that he’s mentioning it, Harry has seen the same shirt on every elf he’s encountered in this ridiculous house.

And he thought the Black Manor was bad, Draco literally lives in a castle. It’s _huge._ Incredibly daunting to have a tour of a quarter of a house last for two hours. Harry got a glimpse at one of the five gardens, a general direction of the pool that’s off the left wing and past whatever the hell a billiard’s room is. He’s only seen all six of the ‘family sitting rooms’ because Lucius was in a meeting when they first arrived and Narcissa loves a chance to show off. He knows of at least two bar areas, that one of the wings is never used, and that the other one has ten bedrooms on it. Blaise and Pansy both said it was a Malfoy thing to be this rich, but in Harry’s opinion this is bordering on insanity.

The Weasley’s certainly think it is. 

After hearing about Harry’s episode, Narcissa demanded he come over and work with Lucius because he’s supposedly one of the best Legilimens and his occlumency shields have only been broken once in the last thirty years, so apparently he knows what he’s doing. And because he came, Draco demanded that Ron and Hermione come too because their lives will also be in immediate danger, and since Narcissa was having one Weasley over she figured that inviting the entire crew wouldn’t be a bad idea. The more people that can fight _with_ her son, the less likely he is to die. 

Harry kinda loves her for it. Screw kinda, his boyfriend’s mum is amazing. 

One large pop later and Pansy is standing in the room with a woman that looks both alike and nothing like her. Katherine Parkisons’s hair isn’t quite as dark as her daughter’s but the slanted eyes and small full lips are very much Pansy. 

“Yes? Did you find out anything?” Katheriene asks as Pansy helps him off the floor.

“Honestly, Hare, we leave you for thirty minutes and you’re knocked off your feet.”

Harry glares at her, about to open his mouth with a snarky comeback, and then Lucius says something he never wanted to ever hear in his entire life.

“I think there might be a connection between the Dark Lord and Harry. Could you check for me?”

Katheriene claps her hands together, smiling between Pansy and Harry with an obvious plan in mind. “Pansy, dear, this is a perfect opportunity.” Harry feels like he’s about to be apart of a weird science experiment. Katherine steps forward, pulling Pansy to her side so two very similar eyes can look at him in a terrifyingly similar way. 

“There’s not need to look so afraid, Hare-Bear,” Pansy tells him, “Draco would murder me if I hurt you.”

Katheriene frowns, but her and Lucius share a look that ends in them both shrugging so Harry hopes there’s a general agreement _not_ to harm him. 

“Alright, Mister Potter, I need you to close your mind and empty your head? Can you do that for me?” Harry nods just once, because he’s been emptying his head every year in Potions since he was eleven. “Splendid. Pansy, remember when I was talking to you about webs being like connections? Do you see the little webs around him? Can you follow them?”

Harry is dying to open his eyes and see if there are actual spider webs around him, because he highly doubts Narcissa would allow such a thing in her home, but then the strangest thing happens. Everyone he’s ever known flashes in front of him. Ron, Hermione, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Sirius, Remus, McGonagall, Theo, Millie, Neville, the Dursleys, Narcissa, everyone from those closest to him to the fucking knightbus driver. And in the middle of them all is him, well, not him, because this version of him has red eyes and is running at him so fast that Harry feels like he’s floating. His familiar mess of hair sheds to revel a pale scalp, his nose closes and shrinks, he grows several inches taller and Harry finds that it was ever him with red eyes, but Riddle disguised as him and he’s getting _really fucking close-_

In a single scream it’s all broken. 

“Pansy!” Harry opens his eyes to see Pansy clinging to her mother’s frame. There’s a shield around the two of them, made of webbing that would send Ron running from the hills. Katheriene glares at him viciously enough to rival Draco. “What the hell did you do to my daughter?!”

Lucius steps to his side, “Now Katie-”

“Don’t you start with me Lucius!”

“Mum.” Pansy slowly retracts herself, but the slight tremor in her shoulders makes Harry want to cry. “Mum, stop. You knew what risks searching for a connection from Riddle would pose.” She turns tear stained lashes to Harry and lets her shield fall so she can hug him. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but I have really bad news. The worst, actually.”

Harry squeezes her tight, already planning on making her be the one to explain what the hell she just did and what it means to Draco. “Can’t be participating in a Death Tournament.”

“No,” Pansy laughs. She pulls away, all playfulness and kindness fading to the most serious expression he’s ever seen on her. “You guessed right, sir. There’s definitely a connection in there.”

Lucius sighs, “Let me guess. A direct mind link to the Dark Lord himself.”

Pansy nods.

“Wonderful. Narcissa is _not_ going to be happy about this.”

“Don’t forget about Sirius.” Katherine supplies, but she’s still keeping an eye on Harry for no reason. “I say you have to tell him.”

Harry pities Lucius for that. He pities Lucius for having to tell Narcissa, who only freaks a little bit, like a restrained panic that Harry only knows because he remembers what her eyes looked like when she found out about Draco being cursed. Sirius doesn’t handle it well at all, so badly that the lights start playing tricks on his eyes, and when they tell Draco….well, Harry would argue that he handles it well.

And he _does._

“You mean to tell me that Thomas Riddle, the number one psycho in the world, the one man we’re all trying to protect you from, has unfiltered access to your mind?”

“It’s not completely unfiltered!”

“No,” Pansy frowns, “As of right now it’s completely unfiltered.”

Getting the Weasleys to leave has been hell, especially once they learned of the threat Harry is under. But, since Ron is staying and he’ll tell them absolutely everything tomorrow, they did leave. 

“Did Mr. Malfoy-”

“Yes, Ron, Mr. Malfoy and Narcissa both are going to be teaching me about, um, shields I think-”

“Merlin, did you listen to a word Mr. Malfoy said?” Blaise rolls his eyes, “You’ll be learning occlumency. It’s a-fuck why did no one think to explain this to you?”

Hermione huffs from her and Pansy’s side of Draco’s ridiculously big bedroom. “We have. Several times actually.”

“Now now, ‘Mione. There’s no need to be so upset.”

“How did you do it anyways?” Ron asks, sitting on one of the beds Draco had moved in. His room is spacious enough to fit three kind begs, hell, his bed alone is enough to fit all of them. Normally they would all sleep in different rooms, apparently Pansy and Blaise have reserved rooms here, but after their previous night together, Draco thought it might be a better idea for them all to sleep in the same room. Just in case Riddle took advantage of their cute little cuffed together brains. Or if Harry decided to play his favorite game of How Many People Can I Wake Up With My Screaming. 

Pansy cocks her head, sitting her pillow next to Hermione’s on their shared bed. “Do what?”

“Find the connection? It doesn’t seem like a thing people can do, if so Sirius or Remus would’ve seen or right? If not them then surely Narcissa. They’re all very powerful, so I just don’t understand-”

“Ronald,” Pansy smiles, all sly and creep. “How personally and intimately would you like to know me?”

“Excuse me?!”

“What she means to say,” Draco sighs. “Is would anyone fancy a history lesson before bed?”

Harry leans back into him. He has to admit, while the bed is a little on the huge side, even for the two of them, the sheets and fifty pillows are wildly comfortable. Almost as comfortable as lying on Draco, or having Draco lie on him. Either way he’s not upset with their situation. 

“A history lesson? Why would we want one of those?”

“Not of wizarding kind,” Blaise smirks, “More….personal, if you will-”

Hermione huffs, “For crying out loud! If you’re going to tell us about your ancestry will you just get on with it?!”

"Well if you insist..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i've been gone for so long, i had a lot happen in the span of two weeks and it kept pushing back my writing. my car started breaking down, papers before thanksgiving break happened, my work hours increased to 50, my dad got covid, i got a new car, my bath tub in my apartment fucked up, it's been a LOT and i'm so sorry but it's kinda reflected in the writing. i thought about putting it off for another week, but i didn't so if this chapter is sub-par i do apologize.


	4. A History of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not as bad as you think! And for your information, all purebloods dabble in Black Magic!”

Draco’s heard these stories a million times. So well he can nearly tell them as good as Blaise and Pansy can, but it’s very rude to talk about an ancestry that isn’t yours. So he sits, with Harry’s back against his chest, listening once more to Pansy recount the tale from so long ago it rivals Geia’s memories.

“Back in the day, I mean way back, folks. Think brink of humanity, people. There was a witch named Djieien with a talent for weaving. She spun clothes, lies, personalities. Anything that could be created, she did with a web as good as a spider. So good, that one day a giant spider heard of her and challenged her to a duel. The young witch, very arrogant, of course, agreed. But what she didn’t know was that the price she’d pay for imitating spiders, the greatest weavers of all, was becoming one of them. At night she would turn into a horrid beast, and by day the same beautiful woman, though she never weaved anymore. Instead she taught her daughter, in hopes that one day her daughter would avenge her. And her dreams came true.”

“Ten years after the wretched spider struck, the creature returned to challenge the daughter, who had long seen what spiders could do to witches who were unwise. She wove her weave carefully, with her mother’s smile in mind, and in turn beat the spider. She was granted the power to see webs as they had never been seen before. She could accept the power, or use it to save her mother, and the young witch chose to accept. To give the gift to her daughter, her daughter’s daughter, and those for menial to follow.”

“On the other side of Japan, the spider who had been humiliated ran to hide. The price for losing to a human was becoming like one. Luckily for her, the daughter of the weaving witch had been beautiful, so though she was forced to tuck her many legs away and walk among two, she kept her beauty about her. In the human world she went by Jorōgumo, the woman-spider who would lure men to traps should they displease her.”

“Skip a few generations down the road and a man and woman meet, one from the line of Jorōgumo and the other from Djieien’s. A cursed love that was forced to work though it never should have. A man filled with secrets, his heart so far underground that it had melted. A woman so beautiful, refusing to bow to even fate itself. Those were my grandparents on my mother’s side.”

“My father’s side is much simpler,” Pansy smirks, “He’s merely a descendant from Anansi, the all-knowing spider, who’s webs stretch across the world and connect everyone. He taught mother how to use her webs and she taught him how to make them. Together, they made me, and I’m going to be the best seamstress in all of England.”

Blaise raises an eyebrow. 

Draco can  _ feel  _ Harry trying not to laugh.

“So basically,” Why in the hell does Ron look so afraid? “You’re related to spiders? Of the….of the giant variety?”

Pansy nods, still beaming despite the air of fear Ron’s emitting.

“Remind you of second year, Ron?” Harry chuckles.

“I thought second year was Geia? Last time I checked I said  _ spiders,  _ not snakes.”

Ron chuckles nervously, Hermione just sighs. “At least you have a reason to fear her now.”

“Arachnophobia?” Draco guesses, because there’s no way  _ Ron  _ is afraid of spiders. This is the same asshole who once entered the layer of a thousand-year old beast. The fucker who was  _ frozen in a lake  _ for a few hours. The same idiot who, if Draco’s memory serves him right, waltzed into a bathroom and helped Harry casually take on a Troll at age  _ eleven.  _ Surely the world is not strange enough that Ronald I-Help-Harry-Defeat-Voldemort-Once-A-Year Wealsey is afraid of  _ spiders. _

“They’re awful little things aren’t they?” Ron shivers, “Their eyes are so…. _ creepy.” _

“They are not!”

“I just don’t understand why they need so many eyes! Or  _ legs,  _ for that matter!”

“They’re eyes,” Pansy huffs, “Helps them detect  _ prey.  _ And they’re legs-”

_ “No!  _ You just said the word  _ prey!  _ How is that  _ not meant to be frightening?!” _

“Because some of us aren’t  _ spineless!” _

At least this explains the curious memory Draco has of watching a giant spider roller-skate in Defense. 

“Anyways,” Blaise pipes up fifteen minutes later when Pansy’s done making fun of Ron. “I’m much less creepy than she is. More  _ tragic,  _ if you will.”

“Merlin, help us,” Draco huffs into Harry’s ear. Harry elbows him, but he also draws Draco's arms tighter around his waist so he can’t complain about anything. 

“Your story is almost as bad as those romance novels you love.”

“Shut up. You got to tell your story and now it’s  _ my  _ turn.”

Pansy makes to talk again, but one swift motion of Blaise’s wand later and she’s left pouting as Hermione laughs next to her.

“I’m not as old as these two, I’m afraid, but I’m much more interesting. Everyone remembers King Rallam from last year, right?”

“The King of the Black Seas?” Hermione perks up, “The one that Harry treated so rudely?”

“I didn’t treat Ra rudely! And at the time I didn’t know he was  _ royalty!” _

Blaise rolls his eyes, “Right, well, fun fact about him: he’s technically my ruler too.”

Hermione has that little gleam in her eyes, the one she always gets before a million questions come out of her mouth. Lucky for all of them, Blaise is eager to share. He’s never one to miss an opportunity to show off.

“A few millennia ago, there were merpeople in the court meant for royalty’s pleasure. Today, they’re more commonly known as Sirens. And  _ no,  _ they’re not angry, ugly beasts. At that point in time, they were beautiful merpeople, men and women alike. And they served the royals in more ways than one. The most common were sexual favors, or personal entertainment in return for life inside the palaces and social status, but that came with the price of being apart of the royal guard. Think stunning mermaid battlemages.”

Ron rolls his eyes, Blaise pelts a pillow at his face before continuing.

“So one day, on an outing to collect berries for his highness’s guests, a Siren met with a Voodoo Queen who was fleeing America. She’d been caught trying to kill a political enemy, and though the Siren sang in hopes of avoiding her, the song had no effect. The Voodoo Queen asked for protection, a safe passage to Britain in return for the berries she was hiding that the Siren needed. That passage turned into regular visits until the two were in love. And that displeased the royals to which the Siren belonged. The only path of action was to have a child with the Voodoo Queen so that, according to merlaw, the Siren could continue to see his lover. And Rallam granted it, but, like everything else, it came with a price.”

Draco wishes he could reach out to squeeze his best friend’s hand. 

“The child was due to be born, there was no stopping that. So Rallam’s solution was to curse the generations to follow. Every woman born from the Voodoo Queen’s line would fall in love, and as soon as the child was conceived, their lover would begin to die. The Voodoo Queen tried everything in her power to save her Siren, but it was no use. For one year she watched her Siren suffer until, on the first birthday of her daughter, the Siren sang his last song. That is the line that my mother and I come from.”

Draco’s hoping Hermione won’t ask it, but she does anyway. “And your father? Is that what happened to him?”

“My father…” Blaise smiles weakly. “My father is the only man my mother didn’t kill. Mum says he came from Nymphs, and that he was the only man who ever made her happy. She hasn’t told me much other than that.”

A somber silence sets in room, so Pansy, in a very Pansy-like fashion, gets off of her and Hermione’s bed to give Blaise a hug. It earns her voice back, which is a mistake because the second that Blaise waves his wand she’s talking.

“That was fucking depressing.” She pats Blaise on the head and turns to Ron, “What about you? I’ve heard rumors about the Weasley clan, but since we’re sharing stories…”

Ron looks wildly uncomfortable, but he clears his throat and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Harry and ‘Mione. We’re not  _ supposed  _ to talk about it, but what the hell? When have we ever done what we’re supposed to?”

Hermione looks like she’d love to argue that if they  _ followed her study schedule  _ they’d have at least  _ one  _ thing right. Ron starts talking before she can. 

“We’re not that special, nothing like you sort. Mum draws from fire sprites, it’s why her temper is so bad, also why she makes such good meals on our crummy stove. Dad, however….” Ron grins a little too evilly. It doesn’t look right on his face. “Dad’s line is from the pranking foxes of Huehuecoyotl.”

Pansy gasps, “Is that why Fred and George are thinking of opening up a joke shop?!”

“Yep. Ginny wants to go in with them but mum’s still pissed about the whole thing. Says it’s a waste of talent.”

“Bullshit! They already have a customer list!”

“Yeah, like the entire student body of Hogwarts.”

“You’re forgetting the professors,” Draco drawls, “Poppy mentioned something about wanting a treat for McGonagall.”

“A prank war between Madam Pomphrey and McGonagall? That’s something I’ve  _ got  _ to see-hey wait!” Ron glares at Draco and Harry, for no fucking reason. They’re minding their own business on Draco’s bed, cuddling in a  _ perfectly innocent  _ manner. “Draco, where the hell do you come from? Your family is too old for you to just be part Veela!”

Every head turns to look at him, including Harry who actually sits up to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Come on, Dragon, darling.” Pansy smiles wickedly, “It’s story time, is it not?”

Draco sighs, this is such a fucking bother.

“Fine, fine. My family is older than Pansy’s, though we’re not as creepy.”

“Liar.”

“I’ll shut you up just like Blaise did.”

Pansy winks at him, Draco glares back.

“The story goes that there was once an old wizard cast away on a boat who accidentally sailed into the layer of a Lernaean Hydra. The man had never seen a beast with so many heads, but he was tired, and unlike the rest who encountered the beast, had no desire to take a head home, or even bother with protection magic. Instead the wizard looked up and said ‘I believe you have a bit of a ship stuck in your fifth neck’. A few spells later and the Hydra took interest in the wizard who didn’t harm, but helped. He granted the old man magic unlike anything that his peers had, and with that power, the Hydra sent him back to his home that he took over and made into the first prosperous wizarding society.”

“A few thousand years later and the descendant of that man fell in love with a Naiad who was to be killed and studied by those who didn’t understand why magical creatures were sacred. The descendant stopped the death, and instead built the Naiad a small home. Once again, my ancestors were able to be blessed by a creature who gave them more power than they could handle. Skip a few generations and some dude named Achilles, and the people were angry. They didn’t trust the heir of my family at the time, he was too rich and powerful, his heart was blacked by greed, and so they stormed the manor and forced him to flee, much like the beginner of my line.” 

“The rich man fled to England under the disguise of a Norman army man, but instead of participating in the invasion, he took solace in this area. See, the reason that Malfoy Manor is so important is because it’s surrounded by magical forests. These redwoods housed thousands of creatures in the olden days, and since the man had taken advantage of the blessings other magical creatures granted our family, he decided to atone by protecting what he could.”

“With the help of his family and servants, the man created a barrier that extends over all of the Malfoy land. It took three generations of powerful protection magic before they could even build the manor. As a matter of fact, it actually started as an underground cottage. The kitchens? That is the original house. Needless to say it grew, as did the family name, power and wealth, until my grandfather came along and destroyed it all by getting involved with Riddle.”

Hermione blinks twice, Pansy idly trims her nails while Blaise braids her hair. Ron and Harry both have the expression of someone going through shock.

“And that’s just your father’s side?” Hermione asks. 

Draco nods.

Hermione takes a deep breath, and then looks around his room with a weird appreciation. 

“I’m afraid to ask about your mother…”

“Oh don’t be!” Pansy smiles, “I like his mother’s side much more than his father’s. Lucius’s side is all powerful and posh, but the Black history…” She taps her nail file on her fingertips. Draco wants to hex her, but instead he turns to Hermione who might blow his room up if she doesn't get her answers. 

“Mum is from the Black line.”

“And what does that mean?”

“There’s a reason they're called the Infamous House of Black.” Blaise smirks.

Hermione turns to him, Draco cringes on principle.

“What do you-”

“Black? As in Black Magic?”

Hermione, Harry,  _ and  _ Ron whirl to face him,  _ “Black Magic?!” _

“It’s not as bad as you think! And for your information,  _ all  _ purebloods dabble in Black Magic!”

“Not like the Blacks did.”

Draco points his wand at his two best friends who just laugh at his empty threat. “Shut up or I won’t tell them the story!”

“We can always tell it for you.”

“Or ask Narcissa, you know she loves to tell it.”

Draco groans and throws his head back on his mound of silk pillows just to be dramatic.

“For Merlin’s sake….The  _ Ancient and Nobel  _ House of Black is not riddled with Black Magic! They just….well, they prefer the shadier side. A morally grey area, if you will.”

“Yes but what does that  _ mean?”  _ Hermione asks.

“It means they originated from Romania, for starters. It also means that while I’d love to claim their innocence, their line is full of Shadow People, a few vampires here and there, I believe at one point there was a notorious werewolf killer, night Naiads, their family was considered royalty up until the 1900s, and really….their motto? ‘Always Pure’? A complete hoax to keep the authorities off their backs.”

Hermione is going to have a heart attack. She’s lucky that Draco is well versed in medical magic. 

“Does...does this mean that Sirius is a vampire?” Harry asks in a small voice.

_ “No.  _ Vampireacy is  _ not  _ hereditary, and most of the known vampires were killed before the 1900s.” That doesn’t seem to ease his friend’s minds, so Draco sighs deeply. “Look. I understand that it sounds bad, hell, the Shadow People part alone is enough to question their integrity, but think of it like this. Because Sirius has Shadow in his blood, he was able to slip past dementors easily. That’s why he’s never had an issue with hiding. Also why he wasn’t caught before dad and Percy could get him cleared of his charges. That’s a good thing, right?”

His Gryffindors nod. 

“Because of the whole vampire and werewolf thing, Sirius isn’t opposed to dating a werewolf, and could you really imagine a life without Remus in it?”

Harry frowns and shakes his head, even Ron and Hermione are coming around.

“And having a Naiad in your blood isn’t a bad thing, it just makes you fiercely protective of your loved ones. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, do you?”

Hermione huffs. “I personally think we could  _ all  _ be a little more protective of you, Harry.”

“Are you calling me reckless?”

“I was calling you much more than that.”

Harry throws a pillow at her head, which leads to a pillow fight that clears up any bad mood. Around midnight LuLu slinks into the room from wherever she’d been hiding, right up to the big pile of teenagers that were meant to have their own beds but somehow ended up in Draco’s bed to continue Blaise’s book series. He’s not complaining. 

It’s actually quite nice to be surrounded by people you love. And getting to cuddle with his boyfriend is just an added bonus.

  
  


\----------

  
  


Harry has a lot going on in his life at the moment.

There’s Occlumency lessons with Lucius on Mondays, fighting lessons with Narcissa and the other pureblood parents on Tuesdays and Thursdays, his weekly call with Geia on Fridays, and now they’re adding Order Meetings to Saturday nights. 

“Who’s coming over early?”

Remus looks over just in time to catch him stealing a bit of cake batter from the mixing bowl, but instead of yelling or hitting him, Remus just winks. “Severus and the Malfoys, Poppet. I’ve decided that it’s high past time for your godfather to make nice with Severus, and Narcissa fully agrees.”

“I feel like you’re using my cousin against me.” Sirius grumbles. He walks over to Harry and the mixing bowl so he too can steal a taste. “Needs more coco.”

“No, it doesn’t. You’re just upset that I’m forcing you on a playdate.”

“I’m a grown man! We don’t go on playdates!”

Remus looks over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow, Kreecher and Harry try their best not to laugh. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that Sirius loves ‘playdates’. He loves going shopping with Narcissa, which is arguably a playdate for adults to spend money. He loves debating lore with Lucius, which is just an educational playdate. Belle and Sirius have had two tea times for them to shit talk about  _ something  _ in French. Remus won’t tell him what, which is just encouraging Harry to learn French  _ more.  _

“Either way,” Remus says evenly as he hands a spatula to Kreecher, “This is only the first meeting, you’ll have to learn how to get along if you want to make it through the end of the summer. He  _ did  _ stick up for you and Harry.”

Sirius mutters something under his breath that Harry doesn’t bother listening to. “Snape stood up for me?”

“Believe it or not, the man doesn’t like to see children suffer. And it helps that you’re important to Draco...I swear Severus is worse than Sirius.”

“What does  _ that  _ mean?!”

Harry wisely keeps his mouth shut, because yeah. He knows Snape spoils Draco, and he isn’t blind enough to look over the ways that Sirius spoils him. 

“It means that in the two weeks we’ve had Harry-”

“If this is about the hot chocolate-”

“It was  _ four in the morning,  _ Sirius! You  _ woke him up for it!” _

At first their bickering alarmed him, but Harry can see the signs now. Like the small smirk on Remus’s face, the gleam in Sirius’s eyes. He hopes he and Draco never flirt like this. 

Sirius’s response to Remus’s little tangent about how important it is for Harry to get a good night's rest is to take a bit of the cake batter he and Harry have been snacking on and rub it right on Remus’s nose.

Remus blinks just once and then it’s  _ on.  _

Which is how the Malfoys find them, slinging chocolate cake batter in the kitchen while Kreecher pretends they aren’t there at all.

_ “Eat this!”  _ Remus yells, chunking what’s left on his spoon right at Sirius, who doges only for the chocolate to bounce off of Kreecher’s protective spell and go right onto his back. It’s smart on the elf’s part, the barrier has both saved the food for the evening  _ and  _ gotten a mess all over their backs.

“Harry! Get him while he’s down!”

_ “No!  _ Harry don’t forsake me!”

Harry flings chocolate at his godfather, purely because Sirius got some on his glasses.

Sirius clutches at the big chocolate stain on his shirt, “My own godson….”

“I hate to interrupt…” Narcissa calls, making them all jump, “But Severus will be here in thirty minutes.”

Draco smiles at him, walking right up and dragging a finger across the batter on Harry’s cheek. “Woah! Remus, your cakes really  _ are  _ good.”

“I’m sure they’d be better off the floor.” Lucius chuckles. Remus holds up a spoon, “Care to join us?”

Both Malfoy males perk up at the idea, but Narcissa is frowning, and that never bodes well. 

“Sirius….it’s in your  _ hair.”  _

Sirius grins with a wicked little gleam in his eye. In one fluid movement he captures Narcissa in a hug, ignoring her shrieking. “Now it’s on your clothes!”

_ “Sirius-” _

She’s cut off by laughter filling the room, and since Harry’s sure it’s been a long time since her son and husband have laughed together, Narcissa lets it go. For now, at least. Harry’s sure she’ll get Sirius back later.

Or maybe she’ll just let herself take a sick enjoyment in watching Sirius, freshly batter-free, try to be pleasant to Snape. Lucius is looking everywhere but the two of them, Harry gets the feeling he’s fighting off laughter. Narcissa certainly is.

“Severus!” Remus holds out a hand to welcome Snape into their home. “How lovely to see you’re well!”

“I can say the same to you,” Snape replies. He offers a weird half smile that looks very strange on his face. Remus goes to speak more but Draco’s rushing up to hug his godfather before any more words can be spoken.

“Severus! I haven’t seen you since the first day of break! How’d Ellios? Is William here yet? Are you staying for the meeting-”

“It’s good to see you too, Draco.” The smile Snape wears is too soft. Harry hates it. “And yes, Ellios is here with William. They’re both settled in enough to come to tonight’s meeting.” He pats Draco on the head, turning to hug both Narcissa and Lucius.

Since Sirius probably won’t act on his own, Harry marches up to stand by Draco and offers a hand to Snape. If Draco says he’s a good man, he might be a good man. Sure, he’s done shitty things in the past, but he’s also saved Harry’s life at least twice. He can stomach a single handshake. He can. Especially after Snape stood up for Neville last year.

“Professor, it’s good to see you.”

Snape raises an eyebrow, but he shakes Harry’s hand so there’s that. “Mister Potter…..I am pleased to see you better acquainted with the magical side of the world. I assume that Draco has been furthering your abhorred potion skills?”

Harry grits out a smile, surprised that Snape doesn’t scoff at him. But that’s probably because Sirius is walking up and extending a hand.

“Severus Snape….I have to say I never thought I’d be welcoming you into my home.”

Snape stares at the hand offered to him, after a moment he deems it safe to shake. “I have to agree, Black. A strange world we find ourselves in.”

“A strange world indeed….” 

“Would you like a brady?” Remus saves Sirius from whatever awkward conversation he was about to begin. “Perhaps a scotch?”

“Wine!” Narcissa cheers. “Not that red rubbish, white if you please. For me, at least.”

“I’ll have a brandy.” Lucius pitches in.

Severus gives both of them a look. “Water is fine, thank you.”

Harry and Draco sneak a look, slowly backing away from the group of adults. There’s no need for them to be tortured too. Narcissa shakes her head at them, but she doesn’t tell them to stop, so he and Draco sneak away to his room.

The second the door closes Draco kisses him.

It’s like coming home all over again. All soft and warm, like breathing, though if they don’t come up for air-

“Sorry, sorry,” Draco smiles, pulling away. “I know it’s only been two days, but-”

Harry pulls him in again before he can finish that thought. Sure, they see each other all the time, but they’re  _ tired  _ all the time too. If not from mental strain than physical. And making out when one is tired is very different from making out with energy. Right now he can focus on how soft Draco’s lips are, he can push him against the door, pull him closer, kiss a line down his neck right back to his lips, gently nip at his lips for as long as his lungs will allow.

“Merlin,” Draco pants a few minutes later. “I will need my brain later, you know.”

“But you don’t need it right now, do you?”

He makes an excellent point, so good that Draco drags him to his bed and pushes him down just to climb on him and kiss him again. It leaves them both a little breathless, and at some point a mysterious bruise appears on his neck, but Draco has one too so it’s fine.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Harry asks, tucked under Draco’s arm.

“Probably something boring, like the weather.”

“Or the good old days.”

“Fuck, don’t get me started on dad’s school stories. His favorite is the time he caught Mum and Belle trying to prank Dumbledore.”

“Your mum tried to prank  _ Dumbledore?!  _ Like  _ Narcissa?  _ Her?”

“Yeah, she was quite the rebellious teenager.”

Harry laughs, all light and airy. He considers pulling Draco in for another kiss, but then the dreaded sound of an elf appearing fills the room and Winky is there, arms crossed, but smiling.

“Mister Harry and Master Draco is being summoned to the dining hall.”

“Thank you, Winky. How long do we have?”

“You was supposed to be there a few minutes ago, but I know Master Draco be needing rest, and Mister Harry is seeming happy so I waited as long as Winky could wait.”

Draco laughs, sitting up, which means that Harry also has to sit up. Winky raises an eyebrow at their necks before summoning them both turtlenecks. Narcissa is  _ so  _ going to give him shit over this later.

She doesn’t say anything, probably because they’re in mixed company, but she does shake her head and frown, which is very different from her shaking her head and smiling. A smile means they’ve gotten away with whatever foolishness they typically get up to. A frown means they’ll either have a hard training session on Tuesday or a stern talk. Harry hopes it’s not a talk. He’s not sure he can survive Narcissa Malfoy giving him the birds and the bees lecture. 

“Harry! Draco!” Sirius claps both of them on the back. “This is Kingsley and Auror Tonks!”

The two of them look between the large dark man smiling and the women with purple hair who can’t seem to take her eyes off Narcissa. Draco and Harry look between the two ladies, one who appears to be frozen on the spot and the other who’s façade is on the verge of cracking.

“Nymphadora…..it’s lovely to meet you.” 

Narcissa closes the gap first, offering a hand that the lady stares at. “It’s Tonks, thanks.” 

Tonks doesn’t shake Narcissa’s hand, but Kingsley does and Harry decides that he likes Kingsley a lot more than he likes Tonks. How someone could be rude to Narcissa is completely beyond him, and Lucius doesn’t seem to get it either because he slips an arm around his wife and hands her a small glass of wine. Severus offers her a smile, it cheers her up just enough that her façade clinks back into place in an oddly comforting way. No one in the room could handle Narcissa breaking down. Well, Sirius, Severus, and Lucius probably could but it would also probably end in blood on his godfather’s new walls, and that wouldn’t be good at all.

“I’ve heard about you two.” Kingsley is saying. “Draco Malfoy, the talented young Malfoy with a passion for the light and Harry Potter, the young man who has defeated the Dark Lord several times now.”

“Riddle.” Harry replies purely out of habit. Draco rolls his eyes, but Harry is making a  _ point.  _ “He’s just a man, sir. If we call him the Dark Lord it will just make his ego bigger, and that could be a very big problem.”

Kingsley laughs, all hearty and booming. Harry likes it. “Riddle, hm? You’re quite confident to call a man of his caliber by his last name.”

Draco bristles next to him, “Nonsense. Harry is an idiot but he’s right about this. By calling him the Dark Lord and refusing to say his name we’re playing right into his fear tactic. He was, and still is, a man with a given name and we call everyone else by that so why should he be any different? We don’t go around calling Grindelwald the ‘Dark Master’ or whatever, so why should Riddle get a special treatment?” 

Kingsley looks taken aback, but there’s respect gleaming in his eyes that Harry finds...nice. It’s nice to be respected, who knew?

The grandfather clock in the main living room strikes seven and people begin to floo in. Harry and Draco are  _ ecstatic  _ to see Fleur and Bill in the mass of unfamiliar faces.

“Harry!  _ Mon Amour!”  _ Fleur flounces over to them, pulling them both into a hug and giving them each a kiss on the cheek. “How wonderful to see you! Draco,  _ mon cher,  _ I have an owl on the way to you, but I suppose I should tell you the good news!”

Bill slinks over, ruffling Harry’s hair and nodding to Draco, “We should be together for this, right? Mum is going to freak when she finds out.”

“That is because you did not tell her sooner like I told you to.”

“What’s happening?” Draco demands. “Did you actually hook up after the tournament?”

Fleur and Bill blush the exact same shade of red. “Well, you see. I had intended to send Bill an owl after the tournament, but I went to Egypt for an internship as a cursebreaker, it was either that or modeling, but modeling is very annoying, and curses are much more fun to work with.”

“So,” Bill rolls his eyes fondly, “She ended up at my station, with my boss, not me, and we got to talking….one thing lead to another and to sum it up,” He smiles softly at Fleur’s pink cheeks, “I started courting her.”

Draco muffles a shriek into Harry’s shoulder.  _ “Courting?!  _ That’s a serious deal, Mister Weasley.”

“Well, I mean for it to be a serious relationship. I highly doubt her family would have accepted anything less.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Harry shakes his head, looking between the three purebloods that are making absolutely no sense. “What is courting?”

Fleur smiles and tucks a bit of his hair behind his ear, which reminds him that he really needs a haircut. Draco’s long blonde locks are stunning, his curly black ones are just annoying. “Courting,  _ mon petit potier,  _ is a form of dating that nearly always leads to marriage.”

Harry’s eyes go wide, his mouth drops right open. At least he understands why Draco reacted so loudly. “M-marriage?!”

“Yep!” Bill grins. “We’re about that age, hm?” He eyes Draco and Harry’s clasped hands and points a finger at the two of them. “You are  _ not  _ that age. You have to be seventeen to begin courting, got it?”

“That’s not true at all!” Draco protests. “You can court at any age!”

“No you can’t! You’re both far too young!” 

“I’m fifteen!”

“Too young!”

“Too young for what?” 

The four of them turn to see Ellios. Harry sees Draco’s People-Mask fall into place, both nice and weird at the same time. Nice because it means he doesn’t feel the need to hide in front of Bill, but weird because Harry will never get used to seeing Draco act like he’s not a complete asshole.

“Ellios, how lovely to see you.” Draco extends a hand that Ellios finds extremely amusing.

“My, my. Severus is right, you are quite the charmer.” Despite the jab, they do shake Draco’s hand. “I came to speak with Fleur, but it is always lovely to see such intelligent young men.”

If they were around friends Draco would be laughing his ass off, but he just smiles and drags Harry away so the adults can talk. 

They make it to the front of the pallor before someone calls out to them and then they do a speedrun of meet and greets.

Harry shakes hands with what feels like a million people. There’s the auror with brown hair, a clerk with glasses, another women with glasses, tall and short people, thin and plump people, so many new faces and names he doesn't really hear but Draco is probably filing them away for later so he can cover Harry’s ass when he forgets they exist. 

After going through a hurtle of a woman that  _ demands  _ he talk to her about the Dark Lord, Harry escapes to the kitchen where Lucius is.

“Wearing you out already?”

“Yes,” Harry slinks into a seat next to the man, “I don’t know how Draco does it.”

“You did  _ fine.”  _ Draco assures him with a glass of water. “Better than I expected you to, honestly.”

Lucius pats his back in a weirdly comforting way. “It gets easier, we can teach you some tricks for next time. Or for when Dumbledore makes you do a charity event.”

“Dumbledore is going to make me do a charity event?”

“He’d be stupid not to, and as much as I hate to compliment him, he’s not stupid.”

“You’re right about that.” 

Harry whips his head to the familiar voice and immediately grins. “Professor!”

Seeing McGonagall glare suspiciously at Lucius makes him feel so much better. Harry hops off his barstool to greet her, though her eyes never leave the older Malfoy.

“Minerva,” Lucius inclines his head, “I swear I’m just here because my wife made me come.”

McGonagall can pretend she doesn’t find it funny, but Harry sees the smile in her eyes. “I do recall Narcissa being quite the task master.”

“Yes, I’m afraid she’s only gotten better with time.”

“The same thing can be said for you.” McGonagall looks between the three of them. Draco and Harry standing too close for anyone to  _ not  _ know, and Lucius smiling fondly at them. The old professor softens, like a weight has been lifted off of her. “It’s good to see you here, Lucius.”

“It’s good to be here.” Lucius replies, “Have you seen Severus yet? I believe he and Narcissa are chatting with Ellios.”

“Ellios? The new teacher?”

“Yes. Would you care for an introduction?”

McGonagall peeks at Harry and Draco once more before nodding. “I’d be delighted.”

Harry has the decency to wait until they’re gone to ask, “What was that?”

“McGonagall and dad? McGonagall was a new teacher when dad went to school, she had to see him make a lot of mistakes to get to where he is now. So it probably makes her happy to see at least one of her corrupt students turn good.”

“There’s no way McGonagall is that old!”

“She’s like sixty, Harry.”

“But-”

“She was twenty when she started teaching….I think she got there dad’s second year? I’m not sure…”

Harry needs a moment to experience that shock. It’s worse than finding out about his and Riddle’s unfortunate connection. But that also means that…

“Your parents are in their thirties?!”

“Yes?”

It makes sense, because Harry knows his parents were young when they had him, and Draco’s a little older, so that means that the Malfoys had to be as young when they had Draco and it makes sense. He’s sure it makes sense to other people, at least. He has to take a solid minute to wrap his mind around Narcissa being older than twenty. In highsight, that doesn't make much sense at all. Narcissa’s lived through way too much to be twenty still. 

She’s more befitting of an immortal in his personal opinion, but he can totally see Lucius being at least thirty-eight.

He’s saved from an age-crisis by the Weasley clan rushing into the kitchen.

“Harry!”

A swarm of arms reach out to him and Harry finds himself surrounded by Ron, Hermione, the twins, and Ginny.

“It’s been so long!” Fred wines.

“At least two days!” George pokes his cheek.

Ron and Hermione pull away to grab Draco for a hug as well, and since Ron’s hugging Draco the twins deem it safe to ruffle his hair. Ginny just punches his arm.

“Good to see you, ferret.”

“Ginerva... _ why.” _

“Really, Ginny! You’re going to bruise him.”

Draco perks up at Percy’s voice, the rest of them groan.

His boyfriend and his adoptive older-brother break away to discuss something Harry’s sure is political. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley save him from the awful talk with a hug that feels safe and secure.

“It’s good to see you well, Harry dear. Are you adjusting okay? I trust that Sirius and Remus have been feeding you well, but you know I worry.”

Mr. Weasley shakes his hand for the hell of it, “How’s the Occlumency training going? Lucius is one of the best on this side of the world, you know.”

Thirty minutes of filling his second-family in and Sirius pokes his head in the door.

“I thought I’d find you lot here, come on, the meeting is starting.”

Mrs. Weasley is very obviously wildly uncomfortable at the idea of her children sitting in on an Order meeting, but Harry supposes it’s logical. If they didn’t join Harry would absolutely tell them everything, Fred and George have those extendable ear things, and Draco has a near perfect memory, which is how Harry finds himself sitting with friends and other wildly uncomfortable adults who are clearly unhappy with children, Malfoys, and a known ‘pest’ in the room.

“Do we have to have them here?” The lady who wanted to know about Riddle asks, gesturing to the three Slytherins adults in the room. Narcissa raises a single petite eyebrow that makes the women flinch, Lucius appears to be entirely disinterested. Belle Zabini, however, takes the comment as a personal offense.

She flicks her long braids over her shoulder, taking a casual sip of white wine that comes off as a threat. “Do you have a problem, Candice? If so, might I remind you that the Malfoys have been aiding Harry since first year. Draco has saved his life countless times, Narcissa is the most powerful witch at this table, and I assume I don’t need to remind anyone of the part Lucius played in obtaining the freedom your leader sorely looked over?”

Dumbledore frowns at the head of the table, Harry has the strangest urge to hex him and they haven’t even spoken yet.

“No? No one has any other comments?”

Moody, the real one who is a lot funnier than Crouch gave him credit for, chuckles. “You may not like ‘em, but you can’t deny their importance.”

“But what about the children?” Candance complains, Harry decides he doesn’t really care for her. 

“What about the children?” Sirius asks evenly. “Are you referring to their personal experience in ridding us of Riddle’s presence? Or perhaps you're recalling that my godson is the only one who has ever faced off with that demon and lived?”

“I’m merely concerned for their safety. There’s no need to be mean, Sirius.”

Harry squares his shoulders. He secretly takes Draco’s hand underneath the table and prepares to do his worst. And then Draco squeezes his hand and beats him to it.

“But there is a reason to be mean, isn’t there? You claim to be concerned for Harry’s heath, but none of you actually worked to help him. You parade around on your high horses and preach about what it means to fight the good fight, but you do so while making children fight for you. Don’t look away, ma’am, I’m merely speaking the truth. The reason that children are in this room is because our parents aren’t native enough to think that we won’t be involved. None of us have been safe since we were ten. If I recall correctly, it was poor management that allowed Riddle to capture Harry over the years, and it has been us  _ children  _ protecting and helping him. I for one prefer Harry alive, safe, and knowledgeable enough to save his own skin. Do you agree or would you rather leave him fumbling in the dark because you threw a fit at the idea of him having information?”

Harry tries and fails to hide a smile, but it’s okay because his family, that seems to grow bigger every day, is smiling too. Even Lucius is managing a grin.

Sirius straight flaunts his satisfaction.

“With that out of the way, how about we begin.”

Thankfully, no one is stupid enough to protest further. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i wrote half of this chapter drunk off my ass. guess which half i dare you. also, how do we feel about the ancestry? thoughts and opinions???


	5. A Small Explosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d rather not listen to more whining, thanks. 

As it turns out, Order meetings are  _ fucking  _ boring.

Draco sits still, listening to adults talk about gathering forces, trying to figure out where Riddle is, deciding who is trustworthy and who isn’t.

“We need more people than this,” Moody points out thirty minutes after Dumbledore’s long speech about unity. “Doesn’t matter that we’re all powerful, that little rat has thousands behind him.”

“We will have the numbers we had last time, Alastair. And Narcissa has been so kind to-”

“Albus.” Narcissa flicks some lint off her sweater. “I ask that you not disclose any more than necessary.”

That Candice woman glares, Draco makes a mental note to slip something into her tea when she’s not looking. “What? Have you been calling your traitors?”

“My friends, if you wouldn’t be so crude. They’re offering a hand in the war effort, the least you can do is behave with some sort of politeness, or is that below you?”

Candice backs down immediately, a shame because Draco would kill for some entertainment. 

The meeting drags on from there, he tunes out most of it because the adults are being plain stupid.

Sure, finding Riddle is a good plan in theory, but the man isn’t a master wizard for nothing. He probably has more undetectable wards on him than Durmstrang. It’s just going to be a complete waste of time, a more efficient thing to do would be to remove the weakest links. 

The Ministry is going to be a problem. They’re already calling Harry a liar, saying that Lucius saved him from a pack of werewolves after the portkey malfunctioned. Everything else they blame on a Death Eater who’s grieving, like being a Death Eater is a mental illness and not a choice backed by bigotry. Yes, the Ministry is going to be a  _ big  _ problem. 

Teachers pose another threat. Dumbledore doesn’t have a track record for picking good ones, as a matter of fact, nearly every wizard he’s tried to employ for the Defense position has tried to kill Harry. Remus by accident, of course, but it still counts in Draco’s book. Plus, everyone has something that makes them break. Torture, threatening a loved one, his mother even has her weaknesses. And sure, as of this meeting Draco’s pretty sure that the professors are safe, but what if that changes? Another issue to point out.

Then there’s the issue of the teenagers both in the room and absent. Harry is powerful, and he’s good at not dying, but that doesn’t mean he’d survive a fight with a trained Death Eater. Merlin help them all if Aunt Bella manages to escape, she’d kill Harry out of boredom and paint the manor with his blood.

Draco frowns, adding  _ Azkaban Death Eaters  _ and  _ Teenage Survival  _ to his growing list of Thing to Fix.

“Is there a problem, Draco?” Percy asks.

Out of all the Weasleys, Ron is probably his favorite, but Percy is becoming a close second.

And since Percy has directed the attention of the room his way, Draco uses it to disclose some of his issues because the less he has to personally deal with the better.

“Teachers?” Amanda, a clerk with brown hair, scoffs. “Hogwarts is the safest place in the world! You honestly think the teachers aren’t safe?”

Draco represses the urge to hex her. “No place is completely impenetrable. And I don’t need to remind anyone that the last four years a teacher has nearly killed Harry, some adding ‘Endangerment of Hogwarts Population’ to their accomplishments. Like it or not, everyone has a breaking point, ma’am. We need to strengthen our teachers’ dislike of Riddle. They don’t have to fight for Harry, they have to fight for the cause. And our Defense position….” Draco slides his eyes to Dumbledore. “Any new teacher needs to be screened at the very least. We can’t afford any more slip ups in that department.”

“He’s right.” Tonks adds, Draco still can’t shake the feeling that he knows her from somewhere. His mother certainly does. “Aurors have been called up there way too many times in the last five years for it to still be considered impenetrable.”

Kingsley seems pleased with her answer, Draco’s just shocked she stuck up for him and refused to shake his mother’s hand in the same night. Narcissa is far more frightening than he is, but still. 

“While we’re on the topic of enforcement and Ministry employees….” Draco uses the segway to voice his concerns about the Ministry, something that no one questions him on.

Fleur is particularly annoyed by their latest propaganda in the Daily Prophet. “To think they still use such derogatory terms….”

“I must agree,” Percy frowns, “You won’t believe the headlines I’ve had to retract about your latest relationship, but Fudge isn’t budging. He likes you and all, Mr. Malfoy, but he’s on the verge of breaking and a handful to keep up with.”

Lucius offers the Wealsey something like a Severus-smile, barely there and still cool on the exterior. “He is afraid, as he should be. Fudge, in his fear, will act foolishly. I believe our best bet would be to remove him from office.”

“Not a bad plot.” Kingsley laughs. Draco gets the impression that Fudge has been making life harder on  _ everyone,  _ not just his father and Percy. Draco didn’t think the Minister would be bad enough for Arthur Wealsey to comment though.

“The man’s got no brain and all the stubbornness to ruin the entire English Wizarding Community, Albus! I highly agree with Mr. Malfoy, and Draco for that matter.”

“You’re just saying that because he refuses to increase your budget, dad.”

“And he’s mistaken for not doing so!”

From there the meeting flits in between important and annoying. Draco’s certainly not going to bring up the fact that Harry Potter is receiving combat training from two ex-Death Eaters and one Slytherin known for her….persuasive abilities.

He’d rather not listen to more whining, thanks. 

All in all, the meeting ends at precisely eight o’clock, lasting two hours too long in Draco’s opinion. A mere thirty minutes would have sufficed for all the useful information it got him. 

After business is closed, there is supposed to be a feast, but most take a look at the Slytherins who are most definitely staying and the numbers for their ‘feast’ dwindle. In the end, Draco finds himself amongst friends, family, and those two Aurors. Kingsley strikes up an easy conversation with Lucius and Percy, one that Arthur joins into. Draco debates going up to the other uncomfortable Auror and demanding to know why on Earth she treated his mother in such a rude manner, but then Sirius smiles and waves him and the other teenagers over.

“I have a surprise for all of you.”

His cousin refuses to divulge anything, very suspicious and something he  _ knows  _ Draco hates. Not knowing things makes him anxious, and when he’s anxious he tends to do stupid things. He doesn’t want a repeat of second or third year, though he highly doubts his cousin would torture him in the main living room. 

The herd of them follow Sirius right up to the fireplace where he stops and checks his watch. Draco peeks at the time clock above the fireplace to see it changing to eight fifteen, and since his eyes are a little above the place that Order members were just fleeing to, he sees the glow before the others do.

A few seconds later and he spots a familiar shoe, followed by slim legs, a surprisingly modest skirt, toned arms, and finally Pansy’s smiling face. She’s grinning so hard her eyes have nearly disappeared, and Draco’s heart soars for it.

“Pansy!” 

He’s the first to hug her despite having seen her two days ago. She kisses his cheek, moving over to hug the rest of them right as Blaise emerges from the fire, clad shorts and a white button down.

“Alright, alright, where’s my celebration, hm?”

Draco hugs him too but adds a punch to the shoulder just to be a dick.

Blaise grabs at his arm in mock-pain. “Really? You haven’t seen me in a full forty-eight hours and you hit me? I’m heart broken, truly, how ever will I recover from this agonizing rejection-”

“Oh hush!” Hermione chides, bringing him in for a brief hug.

Greetings are exchanged, and before Draco knows it he’s sat at Sirius’s formal dining table across from his best friends, his boyfriend and Fleur on either side of him.

“I’m delighted to see you so open about your relationship,  _ cheir,  _ so refreshing from the Tournament times, no?” She says as she spoons rosemary potatoes onto her plate. “Though I must admit I will miss the blush on your cheeks when I mentioned Harry- _ fantastique!  _ The blush remains!”

Draco quickly hands her a piece of bread so she’ll shut up. If his mother catches wind of a new way to embarrass him it would be the end. Plus, if she gets going then Blaise and Pansy will join in and that just means-

“Aren’t they adorable?!” Pansy gushes. “Merlin, you should’ve seen the way they acted third year! All meek and shy, though I suppose that might have had something to do with befriending Gryffindors for the first time.”

Draco wants to protest, because he’s a Malfoy. Malfoys aren’t meek, and they certainly aren’t shy.

“Fleur, how is courting with Bill going?”

His Veela relative glares at him, but the damage has already been dealt. Several spoon halt, eyes turn to look between the French woman and her lover, and then Molly Wealsey chokes on her chicken.

“C- _ courting?! William Arthur Weasley!  _ Why in Godric’s great name has this not been in any of you letters?!”

Narcissa isn’t any better off. “Fleur? Is this true, love? Is this why you’re not staying with us this summer?”

“Don’t tell me you’re not going to be at the Burrow!” Arthur looks to his eldest son, “You’ll miss our family dinners!”

Kingsley has a completely different approach, smiling at Fleur in a very alarming way. “Miss Delacour, if this is true, would this mean your permeate moving to Britain? Because if so I’m a huge fan of your work and would love to add two highly praised Curse Breakers to my team.”

“She’s still an intern!” Bill protests right as Lucius chides Kingsley for ‘soliciting his relative’.

Fleur, thankfully a wonderful manager of chaos, quells them all in one big breath. “Molly, I apologize for your finding out this way. I demanded he write to you as soon as our relationship was solidified, but he preferred to tell you in person. I believe he respects you too much to have such an important announcement appear in writing, as I respect you, Narcissa and Lucius. I would have told you sooner, but seeing as Bill decided to wait, I refused to hold you to any standards lower of respect. Arthur, I assure you I will be sending Bill away at least twice a week as I am busy and he becomes clingy when bored, and as for  _ you,  _ Kingsley, was it? My moving will neither be confirmed or denied, as we have yet to enter the first formal stage, and I am still bound to my internship in Egypt despite my soon to be constant appearances here.”

Draco’s marginally impressed, but he’s also not under the impression that he’ll manage to avoid Fleur’s wrath later.

Especially if she’s going to be around all summer.

Which poses a question.

“Constant appearances? Will you be here all summer?”

“Yes. I was informed that you have begun Veela training, and it would be horribly awful of me to withdraw aid from my loveable cousin.”

He never knew the phrase 'loveable cousin’ could hold such polite malice to it, but at least he knows how she’ll be getting her revenge now. 

Since the night’s main entertainment of Fleur and Bill’s relationship has passed, smaller conversations spring up to create a weirdly soothing cacophony of sorts. 

At the head of the table, Sirius, Remus, and Belle are discussing some sort of clothing plot that Remus is  _ very  _ resentful about. Something about his wardrobe being ‘perfectly fine, Sirius’ and ‘we just spent thousands on new items, it’s  _ fine  _ you two, really’. Draco stifles a laugh when Remus realizes neither pureblood is listening to him and that any protests are useless.

Next to them Narcissa, Lucius, Kingsley, Percy, and Arthur Weasley are arguing about politics. Draco hears one mention of Fudge and immediately moves on to the next group.

A smaller pair, Molly and Tonks simply trade recipes. Everything on his plate is delicious, but he  _ would  _ like to try whatever chocolate concoction Molly apparently serves every year at Yule.

Next to him, Fleur, Bill, and Pansy are planning a celebration of sorts. And by that Pansy and Fleur are planning, and Bill seems to be suffering a headache. Draco would pity him, but he’s rather happy to be left out of a Pansy party. Sure, they’re always a show stopper, but the workload to make them happen is painful at best.

Down the table, the rest of the Weasley crew is bullying Hermione about something. She takes it in stride, filtering between Ginny’s jokes and Ron and Blaise’s conversation about magical loopholes that Harry actually seems interested in.

Draco somehow finds himself pulled into Pansy’s plans despite his best efforts.

“No, Pans, we can’t use the Malfoy gardens for your scheme.”

“It’s not a scheme! It’s a  _ PR investment!  _ Think about it,” She points her fork at him, “The  _ Daily Prophet  _ has everyone believing that the Malfoys are trying to corrupt Harry. What better way to extinguish those claims than to hold a small party?”

She makes a good point, so Draco entertains the idea. “How small of a party?”

“Well, everyone here, of course, Severus, Ellios and William, a few public officials, my family of course, and my mother would probably bring a few of the Board Members, plus a few of those we were friendly with at the end of the year….probably under two hundred.”

Draco glares at her. Narcissa, however, seems delighted enough to stop Kingsley with a single finger.

“Did I hear that correctly? Are you down there solving the Malfoy image issue, Pansy love?”

“Why of course,” Pansy beams, “We can’t have a measly paper soiling your good name. And mum’s been dying to host something, she has a new pie recipe for the elves to try out.”

Draco wants to glare at both of them, but Narcissa has already made up her mind so there’s really no point.

He turns instead to complain with Blaise and Ron about stupid things like Quidditch and their summer work load. Before he knows it the grandfather clock in the dining room strikes ten, marking the ending of meal time and the beginnings of goodbyes.

Sometimes during dinner, it was decided that the teens would be sleeping over at the Black Manor. The whole lot of them sound like a stampede climbing up the stairs, and Draco’s a little eager to wash up and lounge around, so when Fred and George snag him by the back of his shirt, he’s a little more than annoyed.

“What the bloody hell-”

“Shush up!” Fred commands, pulling an ear out of his pocket. Draco recognizes it enough from their list of prototypes, but last he recalled it was supposed to be attached to a string.

George winks at him, motioning for the others to gather around, “We made ‘em wireless, wanna help us test it out?”

Draco can’t even  _ begin  _ to imagine where they left the other end, or how they managed to hide it. He’s about to point out that they know everyone in the building well enough that eavesdropping is useless, and then he hears Tonk’s voice and closes his mouth.

“Come to curse me while my back is turned?”

“I’m merely here to see a fellow Black off,” Narcissa’s voice returns.

Oh shit. This is probably a conversation they’re really not meant to hear. That being said, Draco is very curious, and a little eavesdropping never  _ killed  _ anyone, did it?

Draco can hear the sneer in Tonk’s response. “I’m a  _ Tonks,  _ actually.”

“So I’ve heard.”

There’s a bit of an awkward pause in which all the teens look at Draco with wide eyes, but he doesn’t know what’s going on either. That’s the whole reason he’s allowing this to happen.

“Your mother-” Narcissa begins.

“Don’t you  _ dare.  _ Say one nasty ward about my mother and I’ll hex you into the ground.”

Draco grabs his wand on instinct, but Narcissa just sighs.

“Your mother was the bravest woman I’ve ever known.”

“What the hell would you know?”

“More than you think.”

“She was my  _ mum.” _

“Yes. And not so long ago, she was my sister.”

Another silence springs from the tiny ear shaking in Fred’s hand. He almost looks like he regrets the decision to listen in on private conversations, but Draco doesn’t regret it, and if he knows his mother, he knows the conversation isn’t over. If there’s any animosity between her associates, she prefers to squash it before ugly things happen. Narcissa is terrifying when ugly things have to happen.

“She was protective, resourceful, and though her ambitions may not have been great, in the end she achieved them with more sense than Bella and I combined. My biggest regret will always be my failure to make amends before she passed.”

Nothing happens. For a moment Draco thinks Tonks actually left his mother hanging, and then she speaks so softly the ear almost doesn't pick it up.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“And I yours. For what it’s worth, the Malfoy Manor will always be welcome to you and yours.”

“Thank you.” Tonks says. A few seconds later and the sound of a working floo airs, leaving his mother alone in the main living room.

Alone, but never for long.

“That was sufferable.” Sirius chirps, loud enough that the teenagers listening in actually jump.

“Leave her alone,” Lucius chides. 

What, are they having a party down there?

“Were you all listening in? For  _ shame,  _ the whole lot of you.”

Belle’s laughter has Blaise shrugging. His mother has always been a big fan of hearing what she shouldn’t hear. “Come now, Sissy, we’re just here to support you.”

“I personally think tonight was successful,” Remus pipes in, “Sirius and Severus can be in a room without killing each other and you and Tonks actually spoke to each other. I have to admit I wasn’t expecting that one- _ ow! Sirius!” _

Narcissa lets out a long sigh. “Draco also did well tonight, even if he  _ was _ holding back questions.”

“Yes,” Draco can almost see Lucius’s thoughtful face, “We’ll have to ask him about it later, Merlin knows he has more insight than your Order.”

“He was right about the Ministry. It’s a shame that Katie wasn’t here, with her position on the Council she probably has more than enough manipulation material.”

Pansy doesn’t even blink at Belle’s plans for her mother. Probably because she was thinking the same thing, she’s not one to miss an opportunity.

“I’ll speak with her when we’re discussing the party Pansy thought of.”

“Are we really having a summer party? It’s awfully late to plan one.”

“Oh no you don’t, Lucius. You’re not wiggling out of this one, I’ll demand a day off from Fudge myself if I have to.”

The teens stifle a laugh at the thought of Fudge cowering before Narcissa.

“Does this mean we’ll need to move the sparing inside?” Belle asks right as Sirius says, “How is that going, by the way? Are they any good? You kicked me out and have  _ refused  _ to fill me in and I’m not very fond of that.”

They told him he couldn’t help because he wasn’t helping. He was too afraid of hurting Harry even if Draco was on medical standby, and as much as he would love his boyfriend to never face any danger, he might not always be there to make sure that happens. Harry is strong, he has power coursing through his veins. Draco can feel it every time they touch, and power like that can protect Harry. If he learns how to use it, of course, something he can't do if Sirius refuses to fight him properly.

“It’s going okay…”

“Okay? Admit it, Narcissa, they’re much better than we were at their age. Quicker learners too, Blaise has nearly mastered my most complicated trick, and you can’t deny how strong Pansy’s webs are. Don’t get me started on your son.”

“What about my son?” Lucius asks, voice dipping low like a threat is in the room.

_ “Our  _ son,” Narcissa corrects, “Is going to be too powerful for his own good. I’m terrified for the day he realizes it. Merlin, he’s only fifteen and he could outperform any mage at St. Muggo’s. And his  _ dueling!  _ He’s going to beat you any day now, love.”

“He is not!” Lucius exclaims as Sirius clears his throat.

“That’s all good and well, but what about the others? Ron? Hermione?  _ Harry,  _ you know, my adoptive godson?”

“Also a quicker learner, I’m starting to have difficulties getting past his shields.”

_ “You?”  _ Remus’s voice is riddled with disbelief, “The Lucius Malfoy, the one man who can rival Dumbledore and Riddle in Legilimency? You’re having trouble with a fourteen year-old?”

Lucius loathes to admit it, but he does. “I’m certain he’ll only get more powerful once he learns of his own ancestry, Ronald certainly has. His fire rivals yours, Narcissa, and that Hermione child is a force to be reckoned with. I still can’t believe she doesn’t have a single drop of magical heritage.”

“Draco calls her the brightest witch of their age,” Narcissa says fondly.

Hermione ducks her head, a blush across her dark cheeks. Draco himself is preening with pride, or he is until Remus chuckles nervously.

“About Harry’s heritage….”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know! I thought you and James Potter were the best of friends!”

“Well, James rarely used his ancestry! It pissed Lilly off, but he wanted them to be on equal terms. Said that if she wasn’t a pureblood then he wasn’t either, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter loved him too much to force it on him. If she was just a muggleborn witch, then he'd just be a muggleborn wizard. ”

Lucius scoffs, “Lilly Evans was  _ not  _ a muggleborn, firstly. In a family full of squibs, sure, but not a muggleborn.”

The teens all blink and look at Harry. Not a smart choice because Harry is probably more clueless than the rest of them. From the look on his face, this is definitely news to him too.

“How do you know that?”

“Are you telling me you two never got curious and looked? Sirius you have a library with the same magical archives that I do!”

“That doesn’t mean I look at them! Blood purity is useless!”

“It’s not about  _ blood purity  _ it’s about  _ connections.”  _ Lucius retorts, only to have Narcissa call them both off.

“Enough. We’ll discuss this in the morning when you all come over for breakfast.”

“We’re coming over for breakfast?” Remus asks.

“You are now.”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  


By breakfast they’ve all almost forgotten the conversation from the night before.

They pile into the Malfoy Manor’s dining room, the twins eventually leave, followed shortly by Blaise and Pansy, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione until it’s just the Malfoys and the Blacks. Harry assumes he’s a part of the Black family now, but he’s not sure if Remus will ever change his last name. Honestly, he’s not even sure if his godfathers are married. They should be, but they don’t have to be for them to be a family. 

Harry shakes his head to clear it.

It’s a Sunday morning, the morning paper is delivered and their little group disperses. Narcissa to visit with Katheriene Parkinson, Draco to the potion’s lab, Sirius and Remus to the grocery store, and because they’ve all left him, Harry finds himself in the Malfoy library with Lucius.

He’s so different yet so alike to Draco.

They both read the paper’s headlines,  _ Potter-Malfoy Queer Alliance?  _ courtesy of Rita Seeker, with the same little frown, though Draco’s is much cuter. Draco’s paper usually ends up torn and in the garbage, but Lucius merely frowns and sets it to the side like it’s something he’d prefer not to deal with at the moment. Instead he ties up his hair, a low ponytail compared to Draco’s usual high bun. Then he puts on reading glasses, takes out some documents and gets to work.

Harry sits in a chair nearby Lucius’s desk, pretending to read one of Draco’s favorite books. It’s something to do with a wizard who travels around London and vanquishes evil, but that plot is honestly getting overused, and Harry has his own evil to vanquish.

Also, he can’t get the conversation from last night out of his head.

“What is it?” Lucius sighs, setting his documents down.

“Sir?”

“You’ve been staring at the wall like it’s offended you. Surely you don’t have a problem with off-white, and the book you're reading appears to be upside down.” Harry scrambles to correct that mistake much to Lucius’s amusement. “If you have a question don’t hesitate to ask.”

Harry weighs his options. He could ask Lucius about it, try to pry it off Narcissa, or wait for Draco to find out. The last two aren’t very appealing, and he doubts Draco will find out soon, so Harry sets his book down.

“It’s about your wife, sir. I was just...well I guess I was curious about her.”

“You’re curious about my wife?”

“Yes. I, um….I know she’s related to Auror Tonks, and I was shocked to see how Tonks treated her last night. Narcissa is difficult not to like once you have a conversation with her, and I guess I was just curious as to what happened between them.”

Lucius sighs, actually taking off his reading glasses. Harry expects nothing less, but the action still rattles him enough to make him sit up fully.

“Tell me, Harry, what do you know about the Blank Linage?”

Harry frowns. “I know about their heritage, that Sirius was struck from the tapestry, but that’s about it.”

“Right.” Lucius nods. “Well, not too long ago there were three Black children. The eldest was Cygnus, hen came Alphard, and finally Walburga. We’ll begin with Alphard because he’s the quickest, as he was disowned for being queer shortly after Sirius escaped. The papers declared him dead a few months later, but to tell you a secret, he’s just living in France with his lover. Not that anyone but family knows, of course.”

Harry blinks twice, but he supposes he too would rather run away and live in France with Draco than deal with all the shit back here in England.

“Next is Walburga, the youngest.” Lucius frowns. “She was an ass, that one, but she was cautious to join anything that might expose her family’s...darker attributes. She was happy to avoid her mother’s Veela abilities, even happier when her mother finally died, and while I can’t remember her as she once was, Sirius had good reason to fear her. That woman was a monster, Harry. The worst one I’d ever known until I met the Dark Lord.” 

Harry frowns at him, he smiles back.

“Forgive me, old habits do die hard I suppose. Let’s ignore my slip and move on to our final sibling.”

Harry nods his forgiveness, though he doubts Lucius actually cares. It’s nice of him to try to remember at least.

“Cygnus, the eldest of the Black siblings, was both different and alike from his father in many ways. He married a French woman as well, but only after testing her to assure that she wasn’t a magical creature. Though he too hesitated to become involved with Riddle, he was awful about going against Druella’s wishes. The two married shortly after they graduated, and thus bore three children exactly two years apart. Cygnus had been hoping for a son to carry on the name, but instead he got three daughters.”

“The eldest was Bellitrix, who suffered the worst of what her father had to offer. I knew little about her before she lost her mind. At school she was a fifth year when I was a first. She was intelligent, loved by all her peers, and fiercely protective of her sisters. I recall that she once hung a lad by his toes for bumping into Narcissa, and I quite liked her after that. Back in school she was beautiful too, but that changed after she graduated and was forced to join.” Lucius notes his impatience with a smile.

“Next came Andromeda. Druella saw what her husband had done to their first child, and thus demanded to be more involved in Dora’s upbringing. That woman was a breed of her own. Nothing ever seemed to bother her, though she was known to patch up wounds in the Slytherin common room. Hanging around with other houses was taboo back then for us, yet she did it anyways. In her fifth year, when I was in my third, Dora disappeared. I wouldn’t find out until much later, but apparently, as soon as she turned sixteen she ran away with that Hufflepuff Tonks and never looked back.”

At least Harry understands where the last name comes from now.

“Lastly, but most importantly in my opinion, came Narcissa. Druella refused to have her youngest daughter in the house when Riddle was visiting, so instead of suffering at his hand, she suffered at Wallberga’s. That old hag denied it until the day she died, but she was jealous of Narcissa from her birth. Veelas are protective of their loved ones, which is exactly why Sirius and Regulus never got punished in the Black Manor. One too many burned tapestries in her youth, you understand. That changed once they got in school. Narcissa understood what being sorted in Slytherin meant, and when she came home for the summer, Druella would whisk her away to France to avoid Riddle as much as possible.”

“The whole school was jealous of the eldest and youngest Black sisters. Where they walked, students would part and not quite bow but something akin to it. Both beautiful and powerful in their own rights, both the perfect image of a Black child on the outside. They loved each other, you understand. There was a point in time that Narcissa would do anything for Bella, and Bella would never deny her Sissy.”

“And then Bella graduated and everything changed.”

Lucius takes a sip of his coffee, frowns, reheats it and takes a more satisfying sip.

“Despite living in the same house and adoring each other so, Narcissa and Bella were raised by different people. Cygnus raised Bella with fear and a stern hand while Druella protected and loved Narcissa. Shortly after her departure from Hogwarts, Bella began to want out of her fate. She didn’t want to be a Death Eater, believe it or not. All those hours of listening to her mother’s torture, all those long minutes of her father’s harsh beatings….she couldn’t take it...and so Bellitrix planned to escape, just like Tonks had. But Cygnus had already paid the price of losing one follower, and he would not pay again.”

Harry has a horrible feeling in his stomach.

“He drugged her into marrying into the Lestranges, a family that avidly supported the Dark Lord. I don’t know much of what happened to her after that. The next time I saw her she was completely different from the Bella that once walked down the halls with a smile. It broke Narcissa’s heart, even worse when Cygnus commented on Bella’s hair and she killed him right at a family dinner.” Lucius notes the look on Harry’s face. “I know, I still can’t believe it and I was  _ there  _ for it.”

“Thankfully, it was our seventh year, and I’d already gotten Cygnus’s permission to marry his daughter. But shortly after that Druella moved to France permanently. She begged Narcissa to come with her but you know how stubborn my wife is. She refused to leave me,” Lucius smiles fondly, “but it cost her dearly. I’ve never seen her sadder than she was when we got the news that Bella had killed Dora.”

Harry’s mouth falls open. “She?! Her own sister?!”

“I don’t think she meant to.” Lucius replies instantly. “To be quite honest, I think Cygnus rather got what was coming to him, but Bella loved her sisters. She had a shred of sanity before that day. When she came back from that mission she was gone. We’d gotten news that Dora had a child, about five if I recall correctly, Bella was ordered to kill them all, but someone warned Dora in time. Whoever did it is the reason Tonks is alive today, though we never found out who did it. Narcissa was afraid of Bella from that point on, and to be honest I was too. To become unhinged is frightening, but to see the eldest and most powerful Black sister cross the line of insanity was terrifying. It’s part of the reason I made Narcissa go into hiding when we discovered she was pregnant with Draco. Riddle didn’t care much for those useless to him, and he already had one Black sister. He asked me once why I bothered with ‘the spare’,” Lucius’s lips curl, “I nearly hexed him in front of the other Death Eaters for it.”

“Why did you follow him?” Harry demands. “Both of you. If he was that awful then why-”

“For the same reason your parents got involved with Dumbledore. Because we didn’t know better and we thought we were doing something right. I was drilled in the Darks Arts from the age of six, I knew what was expected of me and did everything I could to protect the ones I loved.”

“Then why aren’t you making Draco follow? It’s what both your parents would have wanted so why?”

Lucius smiles softly at him, in the same way Harry sometimes catches him smiling at Draco. “Because my son deserves the best, and that’s not what Riddle is. To be frank that’s not what Dumbledore is either. Draco doesn’t follow either of them, I’m sure you know that by now. He follows what he wants to. He’s very much like his mother and grandmother in that way, and those two women are the best I’ve ever known.”

Harry ponders over this long enough for Lucius to put his glasses back on. And after a moment he can’t help the question that escapes from his lips.

“Do you….do you think that if my parents never got involved in the war...that they might still be…”

Lucius takes his glasses off once more.

“From what I know about Lily Evans and James Potter, they would never  _ not  _ get involved. Your parents….well, they annoyed the hell out of me.”

It startles a laugh from Harry, though he is a bit offended.

“James and Sirius were constantly getting up to no good, at least Lily and Remus had the sense to not get caught. Or almost not get caught, those two were harder to detect, but their magic was very distinct in my Slytherin first years. Granted, the boys began out of spite, and Lily just seemed to hex those who tried to bully her. Merlin, I used to get such headaches when the Perfects had to bring me first years covered in her infamous boils.”

Harry smiles. It almost reminds him of Ginny’s bat-bogey hex. He’s still scared of receiving one, it’s why he never told her that  _ he  _ was the one to take away her notebook in second-year. Riddle infested or not, no one ever messed with Ginny and walked away scratch-free.

Lucius smiles with him. “They were too kind for their own good. On the battlefields I was constantly annoyed with them for taking risks. Lily always protected others before herself, and James never did figure out when to charge and when to retreat.”

“You fought against my parents?”

“Unfortunately, I often found myself against those I had met at Hogwarts. It’s a difficult thing to try and kill someone when you distinctly remember complaining about a class you hated. The thing they don’t tell you about soldiers is that they all begin as children. Schoolmates, acquaintances, lost relatives. It’s a complicated thing I rather hoped your generation would avoid.”

“Do you think it will come to that again?” Harry asks. Even if he doesn’t fancy Goyle and Crabbe that much, that doesn't mean he wants to kill them. He’s very against the whole ‘killing classmates’ thing. 

“I’d rather hope not-”

There’s a loud bang from somewhere below them, right before an elf Harry recalls as Deek pops into the room in a panic.

“Sir-Forgive Deeks intrusion, but there is-there’s is a-”

Lucius rises from his chair, wand already drawn.

  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Draco’s checking up on his Draught of Rightness when it happens.

Very annoying because he’d forgotten to check it before he left last night, and he’s lucky that Winky is a decent brewer or he’d be screwed. Narcissa would be pissed if he ruined his potions lab within the first week of having it, the cauldron alone cost a fortune.

He knows they have some in their storages, he always checks those first when he returns for summer break because one never really knows when they’ll need a Pepper-Up. Or a Calming Draught. Or a Blood Replenishment. 

Draco shakes his head. 

Despite having some in storage, they’ve been going through it at an alarming rate. Training sessions take a lot out of everyone, and they’re all far too busy to be past the point of exhaustion. 

So Draco finds himself in the left side of the dungeons, the part away from the torture chambers that Narcissa’s dealing with still, in an apron, trying to salvage what he can before the potion ruins the marble flooring.

“I is being sorry, Master Draco. Winky was not knowing the next step, and Winky would never be looking through Master’s things without permission.”

Draco takes a break to flick her drooping ears. “Don’t be sorry. You did nothing wrong but honestly, if you’re helping me with something and you need further instructions, you’re always welcome to ask or look through one of my books. A little reading never hurt anyone.”

Winky looks like she wants to argue that point. Afterall, Draco did end up sleep deprived from all his reading this past year, but he was trying to save his stupid boyfriend from dying in a tournament meant to kill. A little sleep deprivation is normal for teenagers, isn’t it?

Instead of arguing, Winky points to the cauldron that Draco took his eyes off of for  _ ten fucking seconds.  _ He looks back to see it on the verge of boiling over and immediately leaps into action, stirring clockwise three times, then counterclockwise until the bubbles die down.

“Winky is still not understanding why Master Draco can’t  _ buy  _ more potions.”

“Because then it wouldn’t be a challenge.”

Winky does argue that point, and she’s right, of course. Summers  _ should  _ be for relaxing, but they're preparing for a war, damnit! What if they need a little more Rightness in their steps to not die. Surely wanting to be fully prepared isn’t a bad thing. A little obsessive, but he’s got to cope somehow. Considering that his training gear consists of a sleeveless shirt and joggers, cutting is out of the question. Plus, it makes his friends sad to see his fading scars, and they’re all too perceptive to ignore any new ones.

Draco stirs until the potion looks less like boiled shit and more like clear water. From here he’ll just have to keep a very close eye on the temperature for five minutes and then let it cool. 

Naturally, as soon as he begins fiddling with that, Winky stands from her stool so rigidly that Draco  _ has _ to look up. The expression she wears is enough for him to leave his potion for three seconds, but he won’t dare leave it for a second more.

“Winky?”

“There is someone familiar at the edge of the wards, sir.”

Draco nods, turning back to the cauldron just in the nick of time. “Well, go see who it is.”

Winky disappears with a crack, leaving Draco alone with the moody potion. He only has one more degree to get to when she reappears, hands covered in blood, shaking and sobbing.

“Winky!” 

Fuck the potion.

Draco turns to her hands immediately, noticing the strange cuts and grabbing his wand.

“There is no time sir!” Winky demands. She clasps a bloody hand around his arm, not even warning him before her apparition.

It takes a second for Draco to realize what he’s looking at. 

A large gate, trees that extend for miles, a freshly cleaned driveway. 

They’re at the entrance of the land. Not the entrance to the Manor, that’s ten miles away from the first gate. But why in the hell would she bring him here?

Draco inhales sharply when he sees the figure on the other side.

At first he doesn't recognize the boy at all. 

His bloody blond hair clings to his face, he’s covered in cuts and bruises, one vicious one forcing his left blue eye closed. His clothes are in tatters, like they’d been burned or beaten off him. The worst thing of all is the way his body lays crumpled on the stone path, like his legs had either given up or been broken.

Draco opens the gates as quickly as he can, rushing out and turning the boy over.

“Theo?” His friend doesn’t stir so Draco slaps him twice on his cheek. “Theo!”

Fuck this isn’t good. 

“I, Draco Malfoy, Son to Lucius Malfoy and bound to these grounds by blood hereby give permission to Theodore Nott of the Nott line and all titles within.” He rushes out as quickly as he can.

Draco nods to Winky who helps him drag Theo back into the safety of impenetrable wards. She closes the gates while Draco gets to work.

He begins with a _scourgify_ __ so he can actually  _ see  _ the wounds, not just the obvious blood loss. “Go get Deek!” Draco says, already casting a few spells to help with pain. He has to stay with Theo until he’s healed, which means they don’t have time for Winky to apparate them both back to a vacant room. It takes all of two seconds for his elf to return with Deek in tow, and while the elder elf clearly has questions, he’s wise enough not to ask them. 

The elves transport them to a bedroom he distinctly recalls belonging to some dead relative of his, and help him get Theo on sheets that will no doubt be ruined after this.

“Deek! I need towels and a lot of water!”

Winky is thoughtful enough to bring him back a few potions. Blood Replenishment, a pain tonic, and one of the stronger healing potions he bullied Poppy into teaching him. Draco taught his elf well, but he can ponder over that  _ after  _ Theo’s safely away from Death’s clutches.

Deek returns with the rest of the material, standing nearby in case Draco needs anything else.

Draco strips his friend of his shirt to address the long jagged wound that’s all too familiar for his liking. Dark Magic is ingrained in that, which means he’ll have to let it bleed out of it’s poison before he can do anything about it. So he opens the wound a little further and grabs a towel from Winky to soak it all up. Maybe he can use it to get a damned antidote. 

A few moments later there’s a loud ‘boom’ from the dungeons. 

Draco winces, “Winky, go check on the potion! Deek, please, for Merlin’s sake, go get whatever adult is around!”

He turns his attention back to Theo’s more pressing wounds. Like the bone sticking out of his left arm, and the gash across his neck that looks weirdly like a suicide attempt.

Two loud cracks later and the room is filled with people.

“Draco?! Who is that-”

“Theo?!”

“Master Draco! The potion is making a mess in the dungeons!”

Draco swears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so, I know this is a day late, but I'm working on a christmas present for everyone SO look forward to it


	6. Another Long Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One day,” Ron greets him, “One day I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Death, mentions of trauma, references to cutting

After about ten minutes of nonstop questioning Draco kicks everyone out but Winky, locking the doors right in their faces. It won’t hold his father for more than fifteen minutes, but he assumes his message gets across because he’s not interrupted again.

Theo’s wounds are probably going to be the death of him, but that’s okay because the Dark Wound has at least bleed out, which means he can force his friend awake, ignore the scream, and shove a Blood Replenishment down his throat before it becomes a problem. 

Three hours and sixteen minutes later Draco emerges, covered in blood, water, and sweat to find Narcissa, arms crossed. Her hair isn’t rising yet, but Draco knows that glint in her eyes.

She doesn’t ask questions first. Her first priority has always been him, so Draco’s not surprised in the least when she cups his cheek to make sure he isn’t in pain.

As soon as she decides that the blood is  _ not  _ his, her grip turns less pleasant. “Who is in there and why did you lock the door?”

“Theodore Nott. I locked the door because too many people were trying to ask questions while I was trying to save his life.”

Narcissa releases him. “Theo? Is he alright?”

“He’ll live I think.”

In truth Draco’s not sure. He did everything he could, the spells took a lot out of him. Between that and the potion work he was doing earlier, the lack of sleep stemming from Ron’s need to talk well past one in the morning, and the constant drain on his magic from training, he’s nearing a breaking point. So much so that the hallway is spinning a bit. He decides he could really do with a shower and a nap right as Narcissa catches him. 

Fuck. He didn’t even realize he was falling.

“What do you need?” Narcissa asks him, because asking him if he’s okay is pointless.

“Severus, for starters, a proper Healer to make sure I didn’t mess anything up, blood spells are exhausting no matter how many time I do them, and you wouldn’t believe how annoyingly precise one must be when healing Dark Wounds, and I’m not entirely sure I did that right. I couldn’t keep any of it from scarring because if I did that then I wouldn’t have had the energy to-”

“Draco, love.” Narcissa kisses the top of his head. “You’re rambling.”

“Sorry.” Draco mumbles. He feels like a kid again, only as a child he wouldn't be covered in blood and magically exhausted. Just tired from playing and needy enough for Narcissa to hold him.

“I’ll floo Severus over, our Medical Examiner was planning on stopping by to give us Harry’s results today anyways, but before any of that, you need a shower and to rest.”

“But I haven’t seen Harry or dad yet.”

“They can wait, love.”

Draco completely misses the nod Narcissa gives Winky. He’s so tired he doesn’t even notice that he’s been apparated to his bathroom, or that Winky started a shower for him.

He  _ does _ notice the blood draining down from his hands. It brings back naister memories that he doubts he’ll ever be free of. His life is so much better than it was two years ago, and he knows that the past is something that changes the future. 

Draco knows that his father has changed. Lucius now would kill anyone who thought to hurt him, himself included. He makes tea for Narcissa, helps Harry in more ways than one, compliments Hermione, gets along with the Weasleys, and most importantly he loves Draco. Not through violence of a curse, but through soft smiles. Making sure Draco gets the crunchy bits of bacon even though he likes them too. Always checking in during his training sessions. Running whenever Draco calls him.

But that can’t fix the small triggers, can it? 

Because when Lucius frowns a little too harshly, Draco’s nerves go haywire. When he laughs anything but his real laugh, Draco tenses. When he moves too quickly, Draco flinches. And even though Lucius had nothing to do with Theo, him being in the same room with blood on Draco’s hand is enough to bring back the fear Draco’s been trying so hard to get over.

Watching the blood flow down the drain sends a sort of morbid deja vu though him.

Draco shakes his head. 

The blood isn’t his. It’s Theo’s. His father won’t hurt him. His father  _ loves  _ him.

Draco rushes through the rest of his shower, repeating those facts as many times as he can until he’s drying off and whispering them to himself like a prayer. He shrugs on some boxers, toweling through his hair as he makes his way to his bedroom. After some sleep he’ll feel better. He’s just tired is all.

Or maybe he just needs to see Harry, lounging back on his massive king sheets, smiling at him. The second he spots the boy tension drains from his shoulders. A blush spreads over tan cheeks, the worried smiles turns bashful, and whatever dying thing inside Draco springs back to life.

“Hey,” Harry says, averting his eyes. “Your mum sent me up here. How’s Theo?” 

“Alive, probably.” Draco replies. He throws himself on the bed, ignoring his boyfriends huffs until Harry throws the blue blanket at the foot of the bed over him. 

“More than probably, you  _ are  _ a good healer.”

“You know what would be healing?”

Draco raises his head to meet Harry’s eyeroll. A moment later he leans down to kiss Draco right on his forehead, pulling him closer than they have any right to be. 

But it’s nice here. With his head on Harry’s chest he can’t think about the past. With arms around him he can’t remember what ‘restriction’ even means. With a warm hand brushing through his hair he can’t fathom ever feeling unsafe. 

“You did good.” Harry assures him even though he hasn’t seen Theo at all. 

“I’m being serious when I say I don’t know. He had too many complicated wounds. The worst were his neck, the Dark Wound, the burns, his eye, and his broken arm. I can’t even fix that one until he wakes up fully because, despite your praise, I can’t regrow bones like Poppy. I’ll have to begin brewing a potion immediately, though I could probably bully Fester into helping and-“

Harry kisses his forehead again. “You’re putting too much thought into it. Theo looked close to dead, and now he just looks like he got the shit beat out of him.”

“You saw him?”

“No. Narcissa told me though, and she almost never exaggerates.” 

Draco raises an eyebrow at that, but Harry’s hands in his hair feel too good to argue. 

“I can’t see my mum saying ‘shit’ in front of you.”

“I’ll have you know that your mother has quite the potty mouth.”

Draco slaps Harry’s chest lightly, giggling as he does so. His hand splays out on the smooth surface, he can feel muscles beneath cotton, it’s a  _ lovely  _ experience.

“She does, doesn’t she? She’s supposed to be a refined lady but she curses like a sailor most days.”

“To be fair, I’ve never heard a swear sound so elegant before I heard her say one.”

“Elegant swears….” They both smile. “I suppose it’s befitting.”

Harry doesn’t reply. Probably because if he does then Draco will never get his nap, and he’d really like to have one. A faint fluttering, like a drum right inside his boyfriend’s chest pulls him closer to the edge.

“You did good.” Harry whispers again, right before sleep drags him away to Dreamland. 

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Severus has always been on the protective side of things. Draco can’t count how many times his godfather has taken him aside and yelled at him for being stupid, or, in today’s case, been unusually gentle with him.

It doesn’t help that there’s a lot of people in the Manor.

Sirius and Remus returned, and because there’s a hurt child that’s friends with Harry they won’t leave. Narcissa flooed over Severus while his father urged Fester to hurry the bloody hell up. And Draco? Draco had woken from his safe place in Harry’s arms to a bunch of loud mouth adults who wanted to know which room Theo’s in.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Severus asks him for the thousandth time. “That was quite the bit of complicated spellwork, and I understand that you are a marvelous fifteen-year old, but I still advise you to-”

Draco fights the urge to roll his eyes. Severus is being sweet, in front of Sirius no less. The least Draco can do is take the stupid Revitalizing Draught that Severus has been trying to force on him for the last half hour.

The whole lot of them are waiting in the foyer for Fester’s review. Draco hopes he didn’t mess anything up, he’s been assured plenty, but assurances don’t mean he didn’t fuck up. What if he let the blood on Theo’s side wrong? What if he didn’t completely heal that gash on his neck? What if his friend dies because he was careless?

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Harry says for the millionth time. It’s weird to have him and Severus sitting on the same couch, even weirder to have them both being nice while they’re in the same room.

Draco opens his mouth to point out that he’s already said this when Fester walks in.

A short, stubby, little man. Eyes like coal and a smile that reminds Draco of sandpaper. He’s balding on the back of his head, and that’s nothing to compare with his receding hairline. Appearances aside, Fester is still the best doctor that people like his family can buy. Granted, they do get a hefty discount for loyalty’s sake, but that doesn’t change the fact that Draco has to suppress shudders whenever he sees the man’s metal briefcase.

“You did well, Master Draco,” Fester smiles at him. Draco tries not to frown. “Young Master Nott was healed so well I only had to do a few extra ticks to him, you understand, I’m sure. He’ll wake soon, if he hasn’t already. I expect a full recovery by Friday.”

Lucius crosses the room to shake his hand, Narcissa close behind him.

“Thank you, Fester. I understand that medical work on such short notice is out of the norm for you these days, if you’d allow me I’d like to offer you a tip for retribution.”

Fester shakes Lucius’s hand with a laugh that sounds more like a struggle for air, “Nonsense! Your boy did most of the hard work, and I was coming here today on Madam Narcissa’s request anyways.” He moves over to kiss Narcissa’s hand.

“We can’t thank you enough,” Narcissa offers him a gracious smile. “Now, if you’ll follow me, I believe we have results to discuss?”

She leads him to the foyer, motioning for the other adults to follow. Draco’s not really sure why Severus is coming with them, but it could have something to do with Remus being a werewolf. She wouldn’t trust anyone else to brew potions for her loved ones.

Draco has the decency to wait until the foyer door is shut, and then he nods to Harry and they race up to Theo’s room.

Their friend is, in fact, awake, and in a debate with Winky it seems.

“I’m telling you, dear, I’m fine, really! There’s no need to bother Draco if he’s with Harry, much less to get Mr. or Mrs. Malfoy. It’s really okay!”

“But Mister Theo! You is being harmed! My master requested any updates about your well beings, sir, and Winky is bound to him so she must-”

“It’s okay, Winky.” Draco grins in spite of the situation, “I’m already here, love.”

Winky looks at him with wide eyes, still managing to portray her annoyance. “I is being sorry Master Draco, Winky was trying to get a report, but Master Theo be saying that he is fine even though Master Theo clearly not being fine.”

“That’s because Theo is a big twat.” Harry supplies.

“Hey! I’m an injured man! You can’t be mean to me!”

“If you’re injured, why did you tell my elf that you aren’t?”

Theo glares at both of them, but Winky’s smiling so Draco assumes that it’s okay. He turns to her with a softer smile. “Winky, love, have you eaten lunch yet?”

“No, Master Draco, I has been cleaning the Potions Lab, sir.”

“Well that won’t do at all! Take a break, make sure the other elves have eaten today, I know it’s been quite busy.”

Winky gives him a grateful smile before vanishing. The second she’s gone Draco turns to Theo with his arms crossed. “Talk.  _ Now.” _

“But I-”

_ “Now,  _ Theo. You don’t get to turn up at my doorstep like that and not tell me what the hell happened.”

Harry nods. “It was quite a shock to our systems, plus, Draco did save your life. I believe that puts you in his debt.”

Theo glares at both of them. Draco, personally, couldn’t be more happy with the moment. He’d kiss Harry if it wouldn’t ruin their interrogation.

It takes a full minute of silence before Draco raises a single eyebrow and Theo caves.

“Okay! Okay! There’s no need to be nasty about it.” He huffs, looking away from Draco’s piercing gaze.

“I was sent to visit my mother at the beginning of summer, you see. Father didn’t want me in the house with all his Death Eater friends, you know what they do to queers. I would’ve been killed by the first bastard that walked through our doors.”

Theo looks at his hands, very unlike him. “She has a cottage, you see. It’s nestled at the base of Sca Fell mountain. There’s a beautiful lake, lots of trees, it’s the only place Father knew that would keep her safe from the press when they found out about her….condition, let’s call it. She’s been living there since I was five, and it’s directly connected to our floo so she can come and go as she pleases and Father and I can see her whenever we want.”

Theo frowns, swallows a few times, twiddles his fingers, and peeks at the ceiling before he continues. 

“I was meant to be there all summer. We made tons of plans on the first day, we were going to go shopping in Japan, visit Stone Wall in America, do our ritual at Stonehenge, but for the first day we went swimming in her lake.” A ghost of a smile graces his lips. “She made strawberry bread, picked mangoes from her garden, we made a picnic of it. And that night she made a bonfire and I told her how my life has been going. Grades, school mates, becoming friends with you lot. She was happy that I wasn’t following in my father’s footsteps. Said I’d be a better man than him.”

“The second day we spent cleaning and baking. She has this lemon pie recipe that no elf can beat. We went hiking, and that night, before I went to sleep, we talked about cute boys and what trouble I’d get up to when I turn sixteen.”

His hands grip each other so tightly that Draco can see his knuckles turning white from across the room.

“When I went to sleep the second night I had a nightmare, so I went to find her. But she wasn’t in the house, so I went looking in the forests. There’s this spot that she goes to towards the outskirts when she can’t sleep. Sometimes she sleepwalks there so I went to find her. I was a few miles out when I heard an explosion and the trees started burning. I didn’t know what to do so I ran, thinking if I could find her we could run to the tree lines and apparate somewhere safe. But when I got there she wasn’t there.”

Tears sting his eyes, Draco has a horrible feeling in his gut.

“I thought that maybe she’d made it to the edge of the forest, so I kept running. I figured that if she didn’t find me I would go back and look. I waited all night for the fire to stop, it was sunny outside by the time I could make it back but she wasn’t in the house. I looked by the lake, the garden was burned and the house was….it was gone. Just a pile of ash that I couldn’t find her body in, so I went looking in the only place left.”

“You see,” Theo chokes a bit. He stops to take a breath and offers them a shaky smile. “There’s this tower that I used to play in when I was younger. I’d be the knight in shining armor that came to rescue my mum. She’d hide in the top of the tower, and when I found her we’d play like there was a beast. But when I went there….”

Harry rises from his chair.

“She was burned, wasn’t she?”

Theo nods. “I didn’t recognize her at first.” He whispers. “I only knew her because of her necklace.”

“I’m sorry.” Draco isn’t sure what else he can offer, so he joins his friend on the bed, making room so Harry can sit next to him.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Theo tells them, “So I used the emergency portkey to go back to the Manor. Father was furious that I came, but I didn’t have a chance to tell him what happened before someone grabbed me and threw me in the dungeons. I-”

Draco takes one look at the scars that suddenly make a lot of sense. He’d rather his friend not relive any torture, so he shakes his head. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell us what they did to you.”

Theo gives him a grateful smile. “Thanks. It was awful, but Father found me and forced me to floo back to the ashes. I tried to tell him what happened, but he silenced me so no one would know that he was letting a prisoner escape. He left me in the ashes and closed the floo network, and I didn’t know where to go, but I knew your place was around here so I um, I walked.”

Draco’s mouth falls open. “You walked? From Sca Fell to here?”

“Yes? No one taught me to apparate, I was lucky that Father gave me my wand back at all.”

Neither Harry nor Draco know how to respond to that. Draco peeks over at his boyfriend, whose skin has a ghostly sheen to it.

“Harry? Are you sick too, love?”

Harry snaps his head up, “What? No! I just, I need to-do you mind if I go talk to Narcissa-”

“I’m right here, dear.” 

All three teenage boys turn to see Narcissa and Severus in the doorway. If they’re here that means that Severus probably has potions for Theo, and his mum’s always been a mother hen to his friends. 

“Why the long face, Harry?” She asks, gliding into the room and perching on the green chaise, “Mister Nott is expected to make a full recovery by Friday. And Mister Nott, it’s lovely to see you under better circumstances. Draco has told me so much about you.”

“Please, call me Theo. I did bleed on your front lawn, my apologies for that.” Theo grimaces. “And for scaring you and yours half to death, apparently.”

“Nonsense, Draco’s just a touch overdramatic at times.”

“I am not!”

“You most certainly are,” Severus supplies. He pulls three vials from his coat and places them on Theo’s bedside table. “You, Theodore, are to take these twice a day for three days. Once in the morning with orange juice and once at night with chamomile tea.”

Draco ignores the pitiful look on Theo’s face so he can poke Harry’s cheek. “What’s got you riled up, hm?”

Harry runs a hand through his hair. “I just….I might sound crazy, but do you remember our second night of summer? The night we all spent at Sirius’s house and I had the...the um-”

“The sight?” Narcissa supplies. “Do you think it’s related to Theo’s circumstance?”

“Maybe?” Harry turns to Theo, who is more interested in the conversation than the potions Snape is explaining. “In your tower...was there a toy dragon? And...and a fireplace with lots of vines?”

“Pothos.” Theo nods. “And the dragon...I kept a stuffed one up there when I was a child? But what does that have to do with-”

“Your mother’s lake. Nested by a mountain, are the trees red? The leaves, I mean.”

“Yes? They’re maples and redwoods?”

“And the house….is the roof of the house blue? With a little winged thing on top?”

Theo’s eyebrows grow more and more together. “Yes, but I don’t recall telling you that so-”

“It was him.” Harry says. Emotionless and stoic, staring off into space, that or the picture of roses on the wall is very interesting. “I think Riddle might have killed your mother.”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  


Of all the things that Harry hates, being the bearer of bad news is definitely at the top of his list. He doesn’t have one, but Draco’s fond of lists so maybe he’ll make one. The first has to be Riddle, the bastard has killed a lot of people, his parents included. The second thing is probably making his friends sad, and right after that is telling people bad things. 

Like that their mum was murdered by Thomas fucking Riddle.

After discussing it for a few minutes, Narcissa had nodded twice and one hour later he was rushed back to the Black Manor.

Order Members meet them all there, well, everyone but Theo who was put under Winky Watch. Narcissa sits him down at the dining room table and tells him to recount the story. With Theo’s permission, Harry gives a brief summary of what happened to her, what he saw through his ‘sight’ and then all hell breaks loose.

“He’s already killed again?”

“We need to get on top of this!”

“Where is the house located?”

“Why isn’t Albus here?”

“We need to-”

Draco rises from his spot next to Harry, rolls back his shoulders, and then calmly and casually waves his wand.

The noise stops all at once, and no, the adults aren’t happy about it.

“I apologize for being crass, but there is something of dire importance that needs to be discussed. If you would all take your seats, please.”

Narcissa, Lucius, Snape, Fleur, Bill, Sirius, and Remus all sit without a fuss, but Draco has to smile for Arthur and Molly to sit, and raise a rather aggressive eyebrow for Kingsley, Tonks, and Ellos to follow. 

“Thank you. Now, if I may. Theo is related to a man who was active in the last war. His father was a proud Death Eater, and Theo is a known friend of Harry Potter. How is he well known? I’ll tell you.”

“Last year, at the final Hogwarts Feast we sat together at a table in the front of the Great Hall. We were in full view of the entire student body, students from other schools, and teachers. There’s a list of us I’m prepared to give you if you’ll listen to me. They already went after Theo, why not get rid of more purebloods who fight for the light? What better way to get to Harry than to mess with his friends?”

Draco fixes them all in place with a stare like his next words should be obvious. “What we need to do is make sure those at the table and their families are safe. You can call me native for thinking we’d be targeted, but I personally don’t want to see my friends dead, and extra protection never hurt anyone. Especially those Slytherins who were with us that day.”

He waves his wand to end the spell. Thankfully, no one speaks for a full minute and then Narcissa nods.

“Give me the names, in order from most likely to get attacked to least likely.”

Draco spells a parchment into the room, finally taking a seat himself.

“They’ve already gone for Theo, but he’s safe with us. The Malfoy Wards are impossible to get through, so we are safe. Millie I’m putting at the top of the list. Her family was neutral in the first war, and with their tunes changing we need to make sure she’s protected. If Riddle’s smart he’ll go after purebloods first, including her.”

He scribbles on the paper, “All of the Weasleys were there. Molly, Arthur, how strong are the wards on your home?”

Molly and Arthur both look a little scandalized, but Arthur answers honestly. “Not very. It’s so difficult to spot that we’ve never had to have them, even in the first war.”

“I’m adding you to the list, then.” Draco nods. “I don’t doubt you, of course, but Ron is one of my best mates and I won’t have any of you dying if it can be helped.”

Molly’s eyes soften at that, Arthur looks like he’s about to say ‘thank you’ but Draco’s already moved onto the next person.

“Speaking of best mates, we need to make sure the Zabini and Parkinson Manors are secure. I’m sure Belle and Katheriene don’t take these matters lightly, but I’d feel safer if they were safe. Same for Hermione. I know she lives in a muggle neighborhood, but that just makes me more worried. I’m putting her right behind Millie, only because she’s too smart and too powerful not to have some sort of protection on her.”

Draco frowns. He’d probably like to put Hermione at the top, hell,  _ Harry  _ would feel better if Hermione was at the top, but Draco was right when he said Riddle will probably go after purebloods first. It makes sense to gather them for his Death Eaters and kill those who refuse.

“Right,” Draco swallows. “Next would be Luna. I know her house is nearly as strong as ours, but well….”

Lucius nods like he gets it. Harry doesn’t have a fucking clue.

“After Luna, the Greengrass sisters. I’m not sure where they stand, but they sat with us, and if they haven’t joined our side already, offering them extra protection might swing the tide….and that just leaves Neville, Cedric, Cho, Seamus and Dean. I’m not overly concerned about them because of their family ties with the first war, but sending an owl never hurts. Ellios,” Draco looks up and smiles at them. “Your son was there too, but I trust that you’ve well-warded wherever you’re living.”

“Yes,” They reply in that deep Russian accent that Harry almost likes, “I promise we are very safe in our...home.”

Harry has exactly two seconds to wonder why the hell Snape’s cheeks are pink before Narcissa is barking out orders.

“This will be done before the end of the day. Molly, you’ll come with me to Belle’s house. I’ll send her to Katie, they will go visit the Greengrasses and follow you to the Burrow so we can have the lot of you done by three. Severus and Ellios, you’re going to the Bulstrode Manor. Tonks and Kingsley will go to the Granger’s home, her floo is connected to this house. Lucius and Arthur, you’re dealing with Xenophilius.”

She turns to Harry and Draco, “You two are going to write letters to the rest. Use the Malfoy Peregrines, they’ll require a treat, they like strawberries.”

“What about me and Remus?” Sirius asks, all geared up and ready to go.

“You’re staying put. The full moon is tonight.”

Remus’s scowl matches Lucius’s. It’s astonishing to look at, but then the adults are filtering out one by one and Draco’s dragging him back to the Malfoy Manor. 

Harry wonders why Narcissa didn’t call them there in the first place, but he supposes that it kinda makes sense. Afterall, there’s an injured child in her home, the Black Manor  _ is  _ the Order’s designated meeting place, and he’s not totally sure she likes everyone enough to invite them over.

Maybe it’s a special privilege thing.

Peregrines, as it turns out, are nasty birds who peck fingers even after they’ve been offered treats, but Remus explains that they’re the fastest bird around, so Harry deals with them the best he can. 

They make their way back from the Malfoy olwery, Draco holding LuLu instead of holding Harry’s hand. 

“She’s spoiled.”

“She is not.”

“She is! Look at her, she’s practically rotten!”

LuLu looks over at Harry with big blue eyes. She meows just once and Harry caves into petting her immediately.

“I wonder why she’s so spoiled.” Sirius muses from a few feet behind. 

Remus shrugs, “Haven’t the  _ faintest  _ clue.”

“Oh shush, you’re just grumpy because of tonight, which reminds me….”

Remus steps to Harry’s side as Draco opens the back door to the library. “Poppet, Sirius and I are going out of town to my cottage for the night. Don’t give me that look, it’s just as warded as this place. The only issue is that you are not coming.”

“I’m not coming?” Harry asks. “Am I allowed to stay in your house by myself?”

Sirius pats his head. “It’s  _ your  _ house too. Our house, the three of us. And no, you’ll not be coming because Remus and I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“You’re not dangerous.” Harry says instantly because they’re  _ not.  _ Remus might be a werewolf, but he wears fluffy socks to bed every night, and Harry knows that Sirius is a stunningly good fighter, but he’s also the man who gave Kreecher a heart attack trying to bake a cake. The elf still hasn’t let him back into the kitchen.

“It’s not that they’re dangerous,” Draco says, leading them back to the main living room. “They just don’t want to risk it. While the wolfsbane will put Remus in control over most of his actions, there’s still a chance and they love you, you idiot. People don’t like to hurt the ones they love.”

Remus gives him a look. “You’re correct, naturally, but how did you-”

“I might have read up on the subject….family ties and all that, plus I only want the best for my uncles.”

_ “Cousins.” _

“Uncles.”

Remus sighs. 

“So I am staying in the house by myself?” Harry asks, just because Sirius and Draco will go on forever and he’s rather confused on his whereabouts for the evening.

Remus nods. “You can. I’m sure Narcissa won’t mind having you here, or if you wanted to have Ron and Hermione over you can. Honestly, if you’d like to go to the Weasley’s you can do that too. It’s completely up to you, but wherever you go must be heavily protected. If Riddle is looking to make your life miserable again, we’d like to have you as safe as possible.”

Harry’s about to nod and start figuring out where to go, they’ve given him a lot of options, but he’s cut off by the sound of the floo and Blaise tumbling in.

“Blaise? What are you-”

“Is he okay?” Blaise asks, rushing over to Draco. He’s not shaking, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen Blaise shake before, but he looks off. His shirt is slightly rumpled, his hair isn’t perfectly in place, and though his eyes are hiding something, Harry can see the slight worry in them. “Theo. Is he okay?”

“What?” Draco shakes his head. “Yeah, he’s…” He takes a long look at his best friend and nods. “Follow me.”

Harry finds whatever the hell is happening a lot more interesting than whatever Sirius and Remus are sharing looks about, so he shrugs at them and follows the Slytherins up stairs.

Draco leads them right to Theo’s room where he catches Blaise’s arm.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Blasie nods, clearly not okay to those who know him. “I just, I don’t know, Dragon. Can I see him?”

Draco nods, knocking twice and waiting for the soft ‘come in’ before pushing the door open.

Theo’s in bed, right where they left him, having tea with Winky. They appear to be discussing a book of some sort that Theo sets down the second he sees them.

“Blaise! Merlin, was there a strong wind? You look like you’ve been through a hurricane.”

If Harry had chosen this moment to blink he would’ve missed it. In a flash Blaise collects himself. The worried frown disappears into a sarcastic smile, instead of rushing he slaunters over to Theo’s bedside. 

“Yeah? I’ll have you know I’m looking at worse.”

Theo smiles back, “Well I can’t let you win every competition. I’ve been told the wounded look is in these days.”

“Whoever told you that was an awful liar.”

“He was dressed like a scammer, but at least I’ve got a cool scar now.”

Blaise chuckles. “Scars, thankfully,  _ are  _ in at the moment. Wounded puppy, however…”

“Are you calling me a dog?”

“I’d never imply you could look anywhere as fetching as a mut.”

“Blaise-bear.” Theo clutches at his heart, “Truly, a wound that hurts.”

Harry and Draco give each other a look, not understanding in the slightest. They’re thankfully saved from whatever the hell they’re watching by the sound of running footsteps.

Pansy enters the room not a second later, hair flying from her braid and breathing heavily. She takes one look around the room, spots Theo in bed, and marches right up to him. 

_ “You!  _ You are-!” She pulls him in for a hug despite his protests. “Merlin, Narcissa told mum you showed up at the Manor on your deathbed!”

“And  _ I’m  _ the dramatic one.” Draco grumbles. 

“You are.” The Slytherins say in a weird chorus without looking their way. Pansy cups Theo’s cheeks, determines that he’s actually fine, and then backs away to hug Draco and Harry.

“How is he, really?” She whispers. 

Draco looks back to Theo and Blaise, immersed in whatever book Theo had been reading, and sighs. “Mum wasn’t lying. I thought he was already dead when Winky brought me to him, but he’ll make a full recovery by Friday.”

She nods back, eying the boys on the bed with interest. 

Winky pops back into the room a second before Sirius and Remus poke their heads in and pull Harry away.

“We’ll be off to pack now,” Sirius tells him with a hug. “We won’t be leaving until five, let us know what you decide before then, okay?”

Harry nods, not bothered at all when Sirius plants a big dramatic kiss on the top of his head.

Remus gathers him into a hug. “We’ll miss you, Poppet. Be home for dinner?”

“Yep! Kreecher mentioned something about muggle food tonight.”

Both adults roll their eyes. “He’s trying to branch out with his cooking skills.”

“If  _ he  _ can experiment, I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to.”

“Because his experiments don’t threaten the life of our freshly redone kitchen, Sirius.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. They both ruffle Harry’s hair just once before leaving him to attend to his friends.

He walks back into a debate of some sort.

“I’m telling you, poison is too kind.”

“Well torture is too!”

“I say tortured with poisoned weapons.”

“Or…. _ or,  _ we could fuck up his mind. I mean, he’s already fucked, why not put him in a permanent hallucination where he has to live death through all of his victims and  _ then  _ torture and kill him?”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “What the hell are you lot on about?”

“They be talking about how to take care of mean ol’ Riddle, sir.” Winky tells him, offering a glass of water. 

Harry takes it and makes a toast, “To making Riddle’s life as miserable as he makes ours.”

They knock it back like it’s fire whiskey.

Theo frowns. “I wish this was real alcohol.”

“You’re not allowed to have that until you’re fully recovered.” Draco tells him. 

That doesn't go over well with Theo, but Blaise quickly distracts him with a game of exploding snap until Sisily pops into the room.

“Master Draco, Mistress Narcissa wished that I be informing you that your friends are to be staying the night here at the Manor, sir.”

“Which ones?”

“All of them.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


Draco’s never been more happy to have a huge house in his life. 

Thankfully, all of his friends didn’t actually mean all of them. Not even all those he listed. There’s still going to be a lot of teenagers, but at least it’s not a small army. Though, arguably, it might as well be.

Harry goes back to the Black Manor at five to have dinner and collect his things, leaving one hour to get everything ready.

He has the elves warm up both wings, telling Winky to look over food because she knows his friends best, Sicily to make sure all the sheets are fresh and that the rooms are good to go, and Deek to oversee all the practical things. Draco, though he’d rather hang out with Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, forces himself to do room assignments.

Theo’s already covered, but Blaise and Neville will probably want to be close by. Hermione and Pansy are obviously going to be in the conjoined rooms, Pansy in her usual purple and Hermione in the pink room. Ron will have the last room on the West Wing because Draco’s not going to force the elves to move around their storage when there are perfectly good rooms on the West Wing.

On that wing he’ll give Luna the blue room that conjoins with Ginny’s white room, he doubts they’ll need two beds, but being safe never hurt anyone. The twins will have the other conjoining room. Bill and Fleur are staying over for some unknown reason, so he’ll stick them in the West Wing master suit. Millie can have the green room across from the twins and that just leaves Harry, who will be sleeping with him. 

Draco’s just finished checking in with Winky when the Weasleys step through the floo.

“One day,” Ron greets him, “One day I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed.”

Ginny just punches his arm while the twins ruffle his hair. Harry arrives soon after and Draco forces him to stand in the foyer and greet the masses that come swarming in. Neville hugs them both before running off to see Theo, Luna does the same, but instead of seeing Theo she cuddles up to Ginny. 

Draco informs everyone where their rooms will be, a tireless task until Mille, the last to arrive, steps through looking rather frantic.

“Is it true? Is Theo hurt? Did Riddle really kill his mum?”

Draco nods, pulling her in for a hug because she fucking needs it. “He’s okay, don’t worry. You’ll see him at dinner.”

Dinner, as it turns out, is only a few minutes away. Draco ushers everyone into the dining hall, but before he can finish yelling at the twins to hurry up, his mother and father come through the floo.

Draco rushes to greet them, his friends can live without his presence for a minute, he’s sure.

“How did it go? Is there a reason we’re housing a small army?”

Narcissa laughs, kissing the top of his head before Lucius does the same. 

“We’re testing the wards is all. We’ve set traps to go off during the night, and none of the parents felt comfortable with their children being home”

“They’re not all lethal,” Lucius clarifies, “We’re doing the same tests we do here on Samhain.”

Draco would like to point out that some of those tests are very dangerous, but the whole point of wards is to make sure they protect, so he guesses it’s fine. 

Narcissa brushes back his hair, “Is something wrong, dear? These people are you friends, right?”

“Yes. They are...it’s just been a long day, I guess.”

Lucius nods in agreement. “I’d love to join you, but I haven’t finished my reports for tomorrow quite yet. Kingsely understands, Fudge not so much. He might take it as me rebelling against him, and Percy and I have to stay close to him for this plan to work.”

“You have a plan for Fudge?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Lucius tells him. “A plan? Me? I would  _ never  _ plot against an arrogant political official.”

Draco snorts in spite of himself, turning to his mother. “Are you turning in too?”

“Yes, love. I’m quite exhausted, and I’ve already introduced myself to that loud bunch so-”

“Draco?” Harry steps into the room, “You’re missing dinner-oh! Narcissa! Lucius! How did the warding go?”

Narcissa pats her husband’s back, who ruffles Harry’s hair on his way out the door. Something about it makes Draco happy, like he’s finally got that acceptance he’s been looking for. 

“Don’t mind him, dear, he’s tired and has work to do before he can sleep. I myself am also turning in for the night.”

“Will we see you in the morning?” Harry asks, coming to stand by Draco.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss tea with you lot. For now, go enjoy your time with your friends. Draco will fill you in before the night is over, I’m sure.”

Narcissa waves them goodnight, leaving them both to go face the loudness in the dining room.

A loudness that doesn’t last long when they walk in.

“Was that Narcissa and Lucius?” Fleur asks. “I was wondering when they would be done. They went to every house to ward it themselves, you know.”

“They did?”

Draco plops down into his seat. “It makes sense. Mum is quite the perfectionist.”

He acts like it’s not a big deal, but making wards as strong as their wards is taxing to say the least. He’ll have Winky give them both a replenisher before bed  _ and  _ a Pepper-Up in the morning. 

Down the table Blaise, Neville, and Theo are ranting about some plant Neville’s apparently  _ not legally allowed  _ to be growing without their help. The twins are showing off their new inventions to Millie, Ginny and Luna are in their own little world again. Hermione is talking about her summer study plans, and Draco’s supposed to be paying attention but Harry and Pansy are covering for him so it’s fine. He peeks to make sure Fleur and Bill are okay at the head of the table, and then tries his best to keep up with Hermione.

They’re supposed to play games, watch a movie, do  _ something  _ cool before the night is over, but Draco doesn't want to. He, like his parents, is tired and reading for the day to end. It’s got to be the longest day of his life, and his friends take note of this and either out of equal tiredness or sympathy, go to their rooms as soon as dinner is over.

He has a sneaking suspicious of what’s going to happen as they all ascend the stairs.

Blaise and Neville join Theo in his room, Draco can  _ see  _ Pansy follow Hermione into hers. Ron didn’t take the right staircase, following his brothers and Millie instead. Luna and Ginny are already paired off, and he doesn't want to think about what Fleur and Bill might be doing.

Instead he bullies Harry into taking a shower while he gets changed. As soon as he’s in his silk bottoms, Draco grabs LuLu and tucks himself into bed.

He registers Harry coming out of the bathroom, sneaking into bed behind him, and pulling him close.

“Long day?”

Draco hums back. Truth be told, he’s already half asleep. With Harry’s weirdly warm body behind him and LuLu’s sleepy purrs in front of him, he won’t last much longer.

Harry whispers something to him, he feels a kiss on the back of his head, and that’s all Draco needs to let himself rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? posting on time? unheard of. also, sorry if there are spelling mistakes and i'm excited for the next few chapters, i hope you are too


	7. With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey! HARRY! I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU!”

Harry steps through the floo to the Black Manor and smiles.

It’s been awhile since he got to be home, and he’s not complaining. He loves being able to see his friends, loves that his family is bigger and kind and welcoming even if some of them are a little scary. Honestly, if someone told ten year old him that one day he’d have everything he ever wanted he would’ve thought his aunt just found a new way to hurt him.

He’s grateful, so very thankful that sometimes he gets choked up about it. Even in the little tasks, like having tea with Narcissa, baking with Mrs. Wealsey, getting caught in Mr. Wealsey’s and Lucius’s debates, even just hanging out with his friends is enough to get his heart all mushy.

So no, Harry would never complain about the amount of love he’s finally been allowed to have. 

But, he’s also not used to it at all. 

At times it can be overwhelming, all those people all at once, all laughing and joking with him can make him feel too full. It gets painful sometimes, and the giant sleepover at Malfoy Manor where he saw all the people he cared about in one day….

Well, he was just as happy to go to bed as Draco had been.

So, seeing that Lucius let him out of Occlumency lessons for the day, Harry had gone back to his newish home.

He takes one step further into the living room and Kreecher pops in.

“Master Harry! You’ve returned so soon?”

Harry smiles, letting Kreecher take his things. “Yep. I thought some down time might be nice. Have you made breakfast yet?”

“No sir, Kreecher was not expecting anyone to be home until five, sir. I will make food right away.”

“Do you mind if I help?”

Kreecher gives him a look, but Harry assures him that he’s nowhere near as bad as Sirius is in a kitchen, and that’s how Harry finds himself cooking eggs while Kreecher makes waffles.

“This is being very uncommon, sir. Masters are not supposed to be helping with the housework.”

“I like it.” Harry shrugs, “Cooking is calming.”

Kreecher hums in agreement, and there’s nothing else to do, so Harry makes small talk with the elf. He tells him about Draco, what happened to Theo, the weird relationship between Blaise and Theo, how Pansy is going to kill them all with her Summer Gala. 

“I’m not complaining, of course,” Harry says as they sit down to eat, “They mean the world to me…”

“You is not having to explain yourself, sir. There has been a big change in Master Harry’s life. Kreecher has seen many changes in his time, sir, and when wizards change, they be needing time to adjust. Your schedule has been too busy for that, sir, you is young and you is needing time.”

Harry supposes the elf is right. He is older, and probably wiser, than Harry is. They finish breakfast and Kreecher refuses to let him help clean up the kitchen, so Harry makes his way up the stairs to his room. 

He’s not sure how Kreecher always leaves it just right.

There’s never dust on his green window seal, and the snitch that flies around on it is always polished, but the succulent that Nevile sent the first week after Harry sent an owl always looks a little unkept with all it’s uneven little petals. His desk is always neat, always polished and papers in order, but the cups of pencils are all different sizes, and Kreecher must not know where to put scissors, so they’ve somehow ended up in the little cup too. The little frame of Harry and his friends that Pansy had cut out of the _Daily Prophet_ is always crystal clean, though it’s never centered correctly. His bed is always made, but the pillows are also rumpled enough to make him want to crawl back in it. His bookshelf has never known dust, but the books are slanted in some places, even with bookends to make room for the Quidditch trophies Sirius had gotten a hold of for him. 

It’s _his_ space. 

Clean but lived in. A mix of things from people that care for him and things he’d chosen. Entirely, and utterly his. 

Harry marvels at it for a minute, tracing the path of the snitch, admiring his stupid cat bookends that he’d gotten because they reminded him of LuLu, grinning at the photos from Pansy that have started collecting on his wall, the books that Hermione gave him, the poster of Quidditch gear that he and Ron laughed at because they were all mislabeled, his self writing quills from Blaise, and the necklace that Draco gave him last Christmas. He plops down on the bed that Sirius and Remus apparently made for him, rolls around on it until he spots the lamp that Narcissa bought for him because he liked the deep purple shade. 

Harry sits up and eyes his bookshelf.

Three books seem to call out to him, interrupting the peace and happiness he’d been reveling in. Since the nagging feeling won’t go away, Harry rolls off his bed and walks over to it, snagging the three that are demanding to be read, and plopping them on his coffee table so he can get comfortable on his maroon reading couch. 

The first is the book on pureblood lineage from Lucius. He’d offered it casually, tucked a note on the inside of it, and told Harry to read it when he felt it was right. The second is the book Luna got him for Christmas last year, and the last is the photobook of his parents.

Hedwig flies into the room, landing on the spot next to him and hooting.

It’s been a while since it was just the two of them, so Harry reaches out to pet her, opening the book from Lucius first.

The little note pops out, Hedwig glares at it, but nestles closer to Harry like she’s going to be taking a nap, so Harry has to be extra careful with unfolding the paper. He’d hate to disturb her. 

_Harry,_

_You must forgive me for not walking you through this personally. It is extremely rude to explain another wizard’s heritage to him, as much as I believe someone should be there for your journey, this is something I’m afraid you must do alone._

_I’ve taken the liberty of finding the bit that’s included of your parent’s line, though I haven’t read it myself. On page 958 you’ll find your mother’s line under ‘Modernly Evans’ and on page 85467 you’ll find your father’s information under ‘Potter’._

_I wish you the best, and am looking forward to whatever knowledge you see fit to share._

_Good Luck,_

_Lucius._

_P.S.: If you require guidance, you need only ask one of those you trust._

Harry sets the note aside, hardly believing there’s more than five hundred pages in the tiny book labeled _The Lines of Witches and Wizards, vol. 1995._ Either way, he shrugs and opens the book to find it blank.

“What the hell…”

Harry flips through the pages, all the same empty white staring back at him.

“How the hell and I supposed to find page 958 in a blank book that clearly-”

Harry blinks twice, just to make sure he isn’t seeing things. Only he is, in fact, seeing things, because as soon as the page number left his mouth it materialized on the paper. He couldn’t mistake it, the little number filling in on the top right hand corner as ‘958’, the heading reading _Modernly Evans,_ even though the page had been blank just two seconds ago. 

“Fucking magic….” 

Hedwig hoots like she agrees, but since it’s there Harry might as well start reading.

Maybe he can figure out why people always tell him that he has his mother’s eyes.

  
  


\----------

  
  


At precisely three o’clock the Malfoy Manor is finally peaceful again.

Not that having everyone over was a bad thing, he quite enjoyed seeing his friends, but that doesn’t change how hectic it got. Or how stressed Draco was feeling.

Most of his friends have left, but some people practically live here it feels like, and _no,_ Draco’s not complaining, because the few that remain are the few people he wouldn’t mind actually moving in.

They wouldn’t, of course, but that doesn't mean he’d say ‘no’ if they ever asked.

Harry was the first to leave, something Draco’s dying to check on. He tried calling on the ‘cell phone’ Hermione made them all, but the witch in question had shaken her head and told him to let Harry be so he had. As much as it makes him slightly jealous, Hermione and Ron do know his boyfriend best, so if they say to give him space Draco will….for now at least.

The twins left next, even though it didn’t seem like they wanted to. Something about a summer job, from Ginny’s reaction Molly isn’t happy with her sons working, but they left to go do whatever working people do anyways. Fleur and Luna followed them shortly, something about cleaning up the Lovegood Garden that Neville got dragged into. 

Bill apparently had tea with Lucius before the man left for work, but once Lucius, Fleur, and the twins were gone, Bill had taken his leave too, making Ginny go with him to the Burrow so he wouldn’t have to face whatever mess is there alone. 

The rest are still here, like little ghosts around the house, left by the aftermath of a storm.

Theo, even though he’s supposed to be in bed, is walking the gardens with Blaise. Something about showing him the Dragon Flowers, but Draco honestly doesn't remember. Pansy is having tea with Narcissa and Katherine, Belle’s probably in there too, but Draco’s not totally sure. They started talking about the Summer Gala on their way there so he’s been avoiding them as much as possible.

Hermione and Millie took refuge in the library. Hermione’s been dying to explore it, she went on for thirty minutes about how the restricted section was a laugh compared to all the books in the Malfoy Library, and she’s completely right. It helps that the library is one of Draco’s favorite rooms.

It’s enormous, big enough to get lost in for days. On the first floor is where they keep most books, Lucius’s study is towards the front, though the whole room is filled with natural lights from big windows. Bookshelves made from British Elms, soft off-white carpets, matching rose chairs, couches, and fainting spots enough for anyone, plus too many books to read in one lifetime. It’s been one of his favorite rooms since he was small.

Draco and Ron are a few feet away from the girls, playing Wizard’s Chest with his mother’s antique board. 

“How do you do it?” Draco asks. He’s only beaten the ginger twice in their four games. 

“Do what?”

“Win nearly every time? Have I fallen out of practice?”

Ron shakes his head, “It’s not about practice, it’s about calculating the risks. Chess is just a strategy game, so it’s easy to take them. Look,” Ron moves his last piece on the board, “See? Checkmate.”

Draco scowls at him, but he’s not angry enough to forgo another game.

It’s nice to have nothing to do. 

If Theo’s walking fine, and has Blasie with him, then Draco doesn’t have to keep an eye on him. They’re not under attack, so there’s nothing to prepare for yet, there’s no training course today, not even an event. No school work to do, no potions to brew, no rush in the day. It’s the first time all summer that Draco feels relaxed to his very bones.

“July starts tomorrow,” Ron mentions as Draco plans his next move. “Do they have a date for this party thingy yet?”

“It’s not a _party thingy,_ Ron, Pansy is orchestrating a small summer gala.”

“What’s the difference?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “A party is something we had last Yule, it’s getting drunk and having fun, there are very little rules involved. A gala is supposed to be a charity event. We haven’t had one in years, but typically there is a bit of drinking. Less beer and more fancy wine. There’s a dinner, but given the season I’m assuming Pansy is going to go for a summer spread, and for entertainment I suppose classical music, we are still posh, you know.”

“You’re a prat is what you are.”

“A prat,” Draco smirks to himself, noticing Ron’s little slip and a perfect opportunity, “that just beat you. Checkmate.”

Ron smiles at him. “Three for three, you’re pretty good.”

“You say that like you’re not some sort of chess-god. Did you know that my dad wants to play you?”

Ron visible pales. “Does he think he can win or something? Because your dad is kinda smart, I might have to go all out.”

“Have you not been going all out with me?!”

Ron grins sheepishly, Draco glares at him for it.

“How does Molly put up with you?”

Ron frowns at that, setting aside the chess board as Winky brings them tea before wandering off in the direction of the Gala Planning Room. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what? Drink tea without sugar?”

“No, stupid, call adults by their first names...it’s weird.”

Draco shrugs. “Is it?”

“Yes, very much so. Harry does it sometimes too, and I get us calling you mum and dad by their first names because we were told to but still…”

“Ronald.” Draco says, setting his tea down. “Why do you call my parents by their first names?”

“Because I was told to.”

“And why do you do what you’re told to do by my parents?”

Ron gives him a look, “Because I respect them?”

“Exactly. There are _levels,_ you see.”

Millie looks up from her book to roll her eyes. “They’re stupid levels.”

“Maybe, but levels nonetheless.” Draco waits for Hermione to give him her full attention too. “In my family, there are levels of closeness and respect. I call my parents mum and dad because I love them and to show respect, but in second and third year, dad was demoted to Lucius for the whole torture thing, you see? With parents it’s supposed to be ‘mum’ and ‘dad’ to show love and a close relationship. When ‘mum’ and ‘dad’ turn to ‘mother’ and ‘father’ it’s a sign of a relationship that is cordial at best, but not very close. When a child calls their parents by their first name, it’s a sign of hostility.”

“That’s confusing.” Ron crinkles his eyebrows. “If you do that, why do you call your mum Narcissa sometimes?”

“Because that’s her name and that’s what she wishes you to call her.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s because you didn’t let me finish.”

Millie rolls her eyes again, but at least Hermione seems to understand. 

“To other adults, Malfoys are taught to address them all by their first name when respect is there. I call your parents Molly and Arthur because I like and respect them. I call Severus by his name for the same reasons. However, the less we like a person the more we’re likely to call them by their last name.”

“Is that why you called me Weasley for the longest time?”

“I called you much worse than that.”

Hermione laughs, Ron doesn't look all that thrilled. “So, it’s like...you call Mrs. Zabini by her first name out of happy respect and the amount that you like her, but you don’t know Neville’s grandma enough to call her by her first name, which is why you call her Mrs. Longbottom, and you don’t care for the minister at all, which is why you call him Fudge?”

“Exactly.”

“And with your parents….you address than as mum and dad even though you’re aware of their names and will call them that in mixed company. So like, you wouldn't say it in front of other family members but you would to us?”

“Granger you are _spectacular.”_

Ron gives them a weird look before turning to Millie. “Do you do that too?”

“Kinda. It _is_ a pureblood thing. Think of it like drawing lines with a single name.”

That Ron seems to understand, kinda. He doesn’t fully get it but the clock strikes four and he gets up to go. “Mum wanted me to de-gnome the garden before it gets dark.”

“It’s already four?” Hermione sighs longingly at the book in her hand. “I have to be home for dinner…”

“You can take the book with you.” Draco tells her. “Just give it back when you’re done and no one will mind.”

Hermione’s eyes sparkle. “How many can I take?”

Draco doesn’t care, and his parents won’t either, but he does make a comment that there’s no way Hermione will finish _that_ many books in one night.

“You underestimate her,” Ron tells him as they walk to the floo, “She once read five books in one night. That stack won’t take her a full day.”

Millie departs with them as she has to be home in time to bake with her grandmother, and since it’s still light out Draco decides to go for a swim.

Pansy finds him only ten minutes after he’s completely drenched and doing lazy laps around the pool.

“Care if I join you?”

He couldn’t stop her if he tried. They splash around for a bit until it turns dark outside and though the pool is heated, there’s a perfectly good hot tub that’s much better for casual conversations.

“How are you doing?” Pansy asks, letting her hair out of it’s braid.

“In what sense?”

“In _all_ senses. You know you can’t lie to me, so don’t avoid the question.”

Draco smiles, such is his penance for agreeing to a blood oath when he was thirteen. “I’m okay. Yesterday was a bit much. I went from a lazy Sunday morning to thinking a friend was going to die, and let me tell you, it was magically exhausting, but I got to take a short nap with Harry, which was nice until I got woken up and had to go meet with adults who don’t have their priorities straight, and then had to house a lot of people. It wouldn’t have been as stressful if it was just us six, but I was tired and...not in the mood I guess. I’m sorry if I was short with everyone.”

“Short is the wrong term, love. You weren’t mean, just overly polite. You forget that those guests were just friends. Sure, they’re not as close as we are, but they cared enough about your well being to turn in early. That counts for something, right?”

Draco doesn’t know how to respond, so he splashes water at her. Pansy, of course, splashes them right back, which is how Theo and Blaise find them, in the middle of a war.

“You got it in my _eye_ Draco!”

“Well, _you,_ got it in my ear.”

“You also got it all over the floor.” Blaise chuckles, splashing his feet in the puddle they created. “Our mums are ready for us to go, Pans.”

Pansy pouts, but they climb out and listen to her rave about the Gala on the way back to the Manor. Belle and Katherine both hug him goodbye, Pansy and Blaise promise to see everyone tomorrow for their sessions, and then Draco’s left with a tired Theo, who needs a bath and to sleep.

“Once again, I feel like you're my mother.”

“Shut up or I won’t give you any sweets before bed.”

Theo laughs, thankfully not making a fuss at having to take a bath. Draco himself slaunters off to the kitchen for a snack. He’s planning on getting something for him and Theo to share, afterall, a quick book showing might be good for them.

He has one bowl full of chips, planning on grabbing chocolates, when someone clears their throat.

“You know you don’t have to be sneaky about it. Your mother and I don’t care if you eat in your room.”

Draco looks over his shoulder and smiles at his dad. “They’re not all for me, some are for Theo.”

“In that case take some of those pistachios with you.”

Draco nods, moving around to the snack cupboards while Lucius grabs some water. 

“Why are you home so late? It’s nearly eight.”

Lucius scowls like the water in his hand called him ‘inbred’. “Fudge is losing his mind. I don’t think I’ve ever been this concerned for the nation and I was once in the Dark- in _Riddle’s_ inner circle.” 

Draco’s blood goes a little cold at the mention of one edgy snake man, but then Lucius is breaking out in a full rant, something about stocks, something about ‘that blasted arrogant fool’, something about Fudge having less common sense than Dumbledore.

He listens to his father rant and rave, at some point Narcissa had to come down and threaten him within an inch of his life for a Fudge-free day. 

“Just because _you_ chose to suffer does not mean we chose to do it with you.” She tells him threateningly, even as she’s tucking herself into his side. Draco makes to leave, he was supposed to have the snacks to Theo thirty minutes go, but his mum pulls him in close.

Just for a second he feels small again. 

In between his parents he’s untouchable. Nothing bad can ever happen to him. It doesn’t matter that he’s killed and refused to deal with _that_ emotional trama, it doesn’t matter that Narcissa left him when he needed her most, it doesn’t matter that his father….nothing can touch him while he’s between them.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Draco is proud to say he’s only freaking out a little.

Blaise would beg to fucking differ but Draco doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what his best friend thinks right now. 

_“Three days, Hermione! I haven’t heard of him_ **_for three days!_ **”

“Yes,” Hermione supplies over the little ‘cell phone’ thing in his hand. “Harry disappears like that sometimes. He did it with the stone in first year, Geia, and you I suppose, second year, and I guessed he always disappeared with _someone else_ last year, but he disappeared all the same.”

Draco refuses to throw the tiny box. He’s much too composed for that. He’ll go on a run when Pansy and Blaise leave, if they somehow manage to keep him from getting to his boyfriend because the more time goes by the more hell-bent he becomes.

It’s not even that he misses Harry, because as nice as it is to see him all the time, they do see each other _all the time._ There’s barely a chance to miss him, and sure, Draco may or may not be disappointed that he didn’t get to see his cute boyfriend in his cute training shorts but _that is not the point._

The point, the real one, is that this is weird behavior for Harry. Harry, who just realized the person he saw die was his mate’s mum. Less saw and more experienced, really, which just makes the whole thing worse. 

It’s weird for Harry to disappear like this, even though they all know where he is. Locked away in his room at the Black Manor, and because Kreecher put the lock in place under Harry’s _very annoying_ and _very specific_ command, it could only be opened by brute force or by Harry. His mother had almost tried it, until the other _issue_ in their situation occurred. 

Houses belonging to pureblood families have their own magic, a different magic suited to the family’s magic that lived there. After all, most pureblood manors were built from scratch back in the old days, it only makes sense that those wizards and wizards yet to come would perfect it in every way possible, molding the house’s magic to respond in kind.

They didn’t think Harry was intune with the house enough for the Black Manor’s magic to work, but it certainly had. 

Sirius had tried it, he’d run full force at a door that was sure to open, putting his entire body weight into it because he’d just gotten home from a full moon trip and was _worried._ All that effort, all that strength just bounced right back off the door, sending him tumbling down the stairs and not even _that_ had been enough to drive Harry out.

Apparently the Black Manor does not take kindly to opening doors that wish to remain closed. 

To say he’s at his wits end is the nicest way he could possibly put it.

“You have to wait it out, Draco. Whenever he does this it’s usually important.” The hair-dresser, apparently muggles have hair standards too, calls her name and Hermione looks away from the phone and nods. “Keep me updated, okay? He if shows any signs of life I _better_ get a text from Pansy at the bare minimum. Is that clear?”

They choir back ‘yes ma’ams’ to her because they value their lives, and once she’s hung up Draco takes to summoning apples to explode.

“Draco.” Pansy reprimands from where she sits on his back porch, the one that leads to the gardens, not the stables or the pools, “I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s probably just working through what happened. Theo certainly is.”

“How _is_ he faring, Blaise? He doesn’t open up to me like he does to you so I can’t be sure.”

Blaise, Draco has to pinch himself to make sure he isn’t imagining it, _blushes._ “He’s dealing. It’s hard for him to accept she’s gone, even worse...he screams sometimes in his sleep.”

Draco’s been there. Harry’s nightmares are _fierce,_ something else he doesn’t know. Is Harry having nightmares? Is he sleeping? Surely Kreecher is feeding him, but that doesn’t mean Harry takes the food.

The only thing worse than Draco not knowing Draco not knowing while his father seems _unfairly knowledgeable_ in the area, which just pisses him off more. He has half the mind to black mail him, or worse, sic Narcissa on him, but he refuses on the very solid chance that Hermione and Ron are right. Maybe Harry just needs time in the way Draco needs an outlet for his frustrations. 

An outlet that just so happens to be his lovely, beautiful and terrifying, Veela cousin.

 _“Concentrate! What are you? A child? This is a_ **_child’s_ ** _fire and you call yourself Dragon?!”_

Oh, Draco’s about to fucking show her fire. 

Arguably, training on his day off while he’s pissed to the point of lacking emotional control doesn’t logically seem like a good idea. But his friends are enjoying it. Theo even came down to watch the show, wedged in between Pansy and Blaise just in case he got _too_ excited.

Granted, if he does go a bit overboard, it’s because Fleur is having her revenge on Draco not-so-accidently announcing her secret relationship. Yeah, he brought it on himself, but that doesn't mean he has to _enjoy_ bearing it. 

Even so Draco grits his teeth, trying to call on all that rage he had earlier. Fleur told him that until he could call on it naturally, he had to use whatever emotion his flames responded to. When she was younger, her flames burned away her tears, meaning they reacted to her sadness before becoming controlled. Gabbi, apparently, burns everything when she laughs if she’s not careful, which means she’s already got a leg up on Draco despite being a few years younger. 

Draco tries to recall the few times his flames came out to play.

The first had been when he was young, too tiny to remember, really, and he’d apparently made fried pea-cock when one of the creatures tried to peck him. The first time he remembers them is when he, Goyle, and Crabbe had been playing. He remembered being angry because Goyle had the _audacity_ to try and hit him on his own property, that anger has spilled out of him in what he assumed to be magic, but turned out to be fires. Narcissa and Lucius covered it up quickly, Obliviation funds and Medical Mage hush money were spent, he’s sure. The second time wasn’t as bad. He and Blaise were on their third play date, being ignored by their mothers who were just getting on friendlier terms than _allies._ Blaise had accidentally pushed him out of a tree, and he’d been so angry about it that he set the tree on fire. Subsequently, Belle didn’t bat an eyelash, and that’s exactly how his mother and his best friend’s mother became so close.

The third time had been with Pansy in a similar manner, only he and Pansy had gotten quite close as children, and what really happened was some asshole insulting her into tears and Draco couldn’t very well have that. In turn for ‘protecting’ her with his ‘pretty fire’ she showed him her webs and that had been that. However, given that the last event was a slightly public one, he’d kept his flames in check for a long time.

Until last year when it all piled up and he found comfort in the fire. 

It doesn’t burn him, it falls over him like a cloak on a cold night. He feels _powerful_ in the flames, like nothing, not even the Dark Lord of Bad Nose Jobs and Balding could hurt him. 

The same asshole who ruins nearly everything.

Draco clings to the rage, and for the first time ever, forces his mask down. He doesn’t let it slip, he shoves the stupid thing right on the ground, not giving a flying fuck if his friends are watching with slightly terrified expressions. 

This rage is, justifiably, all consuming. And the more Draco thinks about the stupid bastard and the things he’s done, the angrier he gets. 

Things like destroying Aunt Bella, and taking her away from Narcissa. Him hurting Narcissa is enough to get him on Draco’s list, but then he’d cursed Lucius, like the torture wasn’t bad enough for his dad the frist time around. He killed Harry’s parents, he was the reason Hermione was bullied first year. He got Sirius stuck in Azkaban for nearly twelve years, he hadn’t just come after the wizarding world. He’s the reason Harry’s life is constantly in danger.

No, Riddle made the mistake of coming after what Draco considers important. 

And Dragons don’t take kindly to people dumb enough to take their treasure.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Harry’s accosted when he finally leaves his room, and to be _fair,_ it’s hard to notice time passing when you’re busy discovering all the things your ancestors got up to. He wishes he could check in the family vault for old diaries, some of the stuff he read sounds too good to miss a joke about. 

But, in the spirit of fairness, he’d let Sirius and Remus badger him with questions like they’d been waiting for this moment all afternoon. They were making no sense until Harry found out that his ‘light afternoon reading with snacks’ had been more of a three day thing. 

Oh well, it’s not like he hadn’t disappeared before. Except he hadn’t. Not on Sirius and Remus, at least.

“I’m sorry!” He tries again, “I didn’t mean to get so caught up in it, but it’s _interesting.”_

Sirius sighs, but pats his head anyways so he’s totally off the hook. “You don’t have to apologize, but at least _tell_ us next time. At the very least don’t lock the door.”

“We were worried, Poppet. Draco’s been itching to come burn the whole manor down he’s been so worried.”

Harry immediately perks up at his boyfriend’s name. Draco’s going to think his ancestry is just as cool as he does, and to be honest he owes Lucius and Luna the biggest ‘thank you’ of his life. 

Sirius seems to notice the look, sighing again but this time more fondly. “You wanna go show your boyfriend your shiny new ancestry?”

“It’s not new!” Harry huffs, “It’s actually quite old.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, but with the promise that he’ll come back and have dinner with them, explain _everything_ instead of the half-hearted excuse he’d given because his mind was elsewhere, he’s free to go.

Truth be told, as happy as he is to see Draco, and as much as he really _does_ need to thank Lucius, the person he actually needs is Narcissa. Or Belle, either cunning witch would do.

But, upon his arrival to the Malfoy Manor there is no fan-fare, except from Winky who hugs his knees and scolds him for making Draco worry.

“I’m sorry,” He tells her, figuring that he should probably let his boyfriend know that he’s alive _before_ conspiring with his mother. “Do you know where he is?”

“He is being training in the runes gardens, sir.”

Harry didn’t even know the garden _had_ a runes section, but Winky apparently knows exactly where it is, which is how Harry ends up seeing one of the most stunning sights of his life.

Stunning in a good way or a bad way he isn’t quite sure yet. 

He’s deposited right behind a trio of Slytherins, completely immersed in the sight before them. Fleur stands to the side, smiling her dazzling smile, and at the center of attention is Draco.

Draco, who’s long hair slithers around him like a waterfall unbound by gravity. Who’s hands are ablaze with blinding white fire, purples and greens etched into the tips of it. Who’s skin is glistening, not unnaturally pale, instead smooth and strong like it’s forming into an invisible armor. Who’s stance is unwavering, not letting the force of the fire push him back, refusing to burn in that which leaves everything in ashes. 

When the fire stops, Draco blinks. His hair sinks to his side, his hand shakes ever so slightly, and then the biggest smile breaks out across his face and Harry’s heart really can’t handle much of this. 

“Did you see?!” He says, turning excitedly to Fleur who hugs him and shouts something in French. Draco turns back to the steps where everyone else is frozen, and then he too freezes. Silver meets Green and for a second Harry almost believes Draco isn’t even that upset about the whole ‘missing’ thing.

And then the air around his boyfriend’s feet starts to cackle and he’s marching forward. The Slytherins take one look behind them, one of them offers a ‘well, I suppose if you weren’t dead before you most certainly are now’ before jumping out of the line of fire.

It was probably Blasie.

It’s _always_ Blaise.

Draco’s mouth opens to snarl something awful at him, he’s never nice when he loses his temper, and Harry honestly can’t help himself. It’s been three days, and his boyfriend is stupidly attractive. So, like any sensible person, Harry grabs his very deadly, very _pissed off,_ and stunningly beautiful boyfriend by his waist and kisses him before he can speak.

It apparently _does_ work, if the way Draco is aggressively dragging him closer says anything, but his disappearance is _not_ forgotten. He’ll probably get the lecture of his life later, but for now it’s Draco’s lips on his, Draco’s hands pulling in his hair, Draco’s-

Draco’s shriek as water is unnecessarily dumped on them.

He rounds on Blasie, who just smiles. “What? We don’t want Harry-Hare to catch on fire, now do we?”

“I am _perfectly fine_ with being on fire.”

“Well, Narcissa might not appreciate scorch marks on her lawn.”

Fleur shakes her head at the lot of them, much like Theo’s doing. Harry lets himself get caught up in it all until he remembers the reason he came here first instead of going to Ron and Hermione is because he needs to talk to Narcissa, not drag Draco to a dark corner and snog him senseless.

“Hey, any chance you know where your mother is?”

“Why?” Blaise raises an eyebrow at him. “If you and Narcissa are plotting something I demand to be included.”

“It’s not a plot! Just a question, though Belle could probably answer it too.”

Blaise’s eyebrows skyrocket. 

“So it’s not just a plot, it’s a death plot.” Pansy says, which doesn’t help.

Harry would continue to argue with them, but he would like to know this sooner than later, so he turns Draco, who’s still a little speechless, so he can kiss him again. Softer, and much more caring than before, Draco’s blinks happily until he realizes that Harry is running towards the main house.

“Hey! HARRY! I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU!”

And Harry hates to make his boyfriend wait, but some things cannot be ignored and this is one of them.

On pure instinct he goes straight for the second living room, where Narcissa typically takes her afternoon tea. Sure enough, she’s there, talking over some sort of design with Sicily that she nearly throws on the ground when she spots him. 

“Harry James Potter! I have half the mind to hex you, young man! Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”

Harry knows it’s rude to interrupt when adults are talking. He also knows that Narcissa is both a wildly scary witch and one of the important adults in his life, and he knows that interrupting is a sign of disrespect, something he’d never do to her because he has all the respect in the world for her. However, knowing all these facts does not stop him from rushing to meet her half way and smiling brightly right in her face. 

“Hi! Sorry, I know it’s been a while and I probably have a lot to explain, but I need a snake and your help.“

Narcissa quiets him with a look, which is nothing less than what he deserves. Once again, he’ll explain later he just wants to test his theory _before_ sharing. Hermione is going to be so proud. 

“My help?”

Harry nods. 

Her dark eyes pierce him, as though she’s trying to find some sort of clue. Harry waits patiently, enough though he’d really like to hurry this up, nothing good comes from rushing Narcissa.

“What type of help do you need from me that you can’t get from Sirius?” Narcissa asks.

He tries not to smile.

“It’s my vault. My family vault, I mean. Apparently it’s locked until I’m seventeen, so all this ancestry stuff doesn’t really make any sense, and I really just need thirty minutes inside to peek around and see if I can find a journal.”

“A journal?”

“Yes. Second-hand accounts can only do so much, and it’s like…” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Like the outside of a puzzle is there, but I can’t fill it in.”

Narcissa considers this with a small smile. “So you, Harry James Potter, want access to your own vault that has been locked? Was it done so by a family member?”

Right... he thought that might be an issue. “I’m not sure. I was just told that I couldn’t access it.”

Harry’s seen a nature documentary in his life. He recognizes the look of sheer joy in Narcissa’s eyes that means whatever prey she has her sights on is about to die, and he’s kinda excited for it.

Afterall, it is _his_ vault. Why the hell can’t he see what’s in his own family vault? Draco isn’t cut off like this, neither is Pansy, Blaise, Theo, not even Ron and Neville aren’t allowed into their family vaults, so why the hell are the Potters different?

It could do with the whole….

Harry shakes his head. 

Narcissa catches it.

“I’ll help you on one condition.”

“Yes! Anything!”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


He is never trusting Narcissa again. 

It’s bad enough that he has a three day waiting period before he can get into his vault, if Narcissa does well, which she will, but he also is in _this_ mess.

The mess of sitting in Narcissa’s tea room while _everyone_ he disappeared from glares at him.

Hermione’s hair is half done, and Pansy is trying to fix it, but she keeps glaring at him in between spells. Draco’s so mad fire is building around him, Blaise and Theo are scarily composed. The only ones truly unbothered are his godfathers. Even Lucius seems a little miffed.

“Hello.” He tries, like he’s not bound to a chair by cushy velvet ropes, courtesy of Narcissa. “I bet you’re wondering why I’ve been gone…”

Draco snorts, his fire cackles a little bit. It’s a little terrifying.

“I didn’t mean to. But I was doing something important!”

“So important you locked the entire world out?!”

“I didn’t think three days had gone by!”

“That’s because you’re a moron!”

“Boys,” Narcissa chides, looking between Blaise and Draco, “Be nice. Clearly something has happened, and I didn’t put him here for you to yell at him, I put him here to explain. Harry, if you please.”

He doesn't please, actually, he kinda hates where he’d ended up, but at least his lesson might actually be learned this time. Godric knows _Hermione and Ron_ never tie him down for disappearing. “Right…”

“So, I’ve been doing some reading, and turns out my ancestors were actually really friendly with snakes? Like, uh,” Harry’s not really sure how to demonstrate, so he makes an attempt at shrugging and does his best. _“Come.”_ is all he has to hiss, one single, simple word. It doesn't leave room for argument, which is why the slithering starts so suddenly.

Harry opens his eyes when someone curses, not realizing that he closed them and _woah._ The books said he and snakes would get along but this is a little….

Narcissa slowly straightens out her hair, “Why are there snakes in my tea room?”

The snakes, there’s only like, fifty of them, ignore her completely, looking directly at Harry like they’re waiting for an order.

Which gives him an insane idea. 

_“Untie me.”_ He hisses.

It only takes two of them to do it, but pretty soon Harry is holding out Narcissa’s ropes to her. _“You can, uh, leave now.”_

 _“Yes, sir.”_ The snakes hiss in a weird harmony. They leave the tea room tense, Theo is actually on a fucking chair, like the floor might bite him if he’s not careful.

“Yeah, uh….we’re friends with snakes I guess?” He looks at the ropes, the quite room, and then the ropes again. “Sorry, I just wanted to test it out, but I can uh, I can put these back on I guess? I don’t really know-”

Draco starts laughing first, the rest of his dorky friends follow suit. Narcissa shakes her head and grabs the ropes from him before he can hurt himself.

“What other creatures are you going to bring into my home, hm? Is there a book to control that little stunt of yours inside the Potter Vault?”

“About that…” Harry looks at them, and they’re all a lot more knowledgeable than he is, but he's not ready to give it away. Not yet. “There are things I don't quite understand, I'll tell you about them as soon as I do, so uh, don't be mad, please? I know I did a bad thing, but I swear I didn't mean to, and if I have to wash dishes that's cool or whatever, I'll even dethorn your garden, I just...I didn't mean to upset you all.”

All their chatter fades, Remus has to reply because Narcissa is momentarily too shocked to.

“You have upset us, but that is because we worry for you. ”

"We do love you, Poppet." Sirius tells him, "You know that, right?"

 _Great._ Now he's fighting tears for no fucking reason other than _love._ Godric, what the hell has gotten into him?

On the plus side, maybe his watery eyes and the fact that this group of idiots cares for him means he’ll survive these intense training sessions. Maybe even the war looming in the distance, or Draco’s clear need to strangle him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter we get into Harry's heritage, the ball, and pretty soon the first semester at Hoggie Warts!  
> Also, I'm not going to start another fic until I finish this series but boy oh boy have i had a thought. That being said, I still have a lot planned for this series. Like I'm talking future jobs, relationships, I literally have a one-shot planned for Theo's relationship and I- I need to write quicker, basically. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed!


	8. Sir Luck and Lady Tamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That’s a whole point for him and like...five hundred points to the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of child abuse, slight Dumbledore bashing, and a lot of italics

Draco’s seen his parents annoyed before, his mother’s temper is legendary, if he’s honest, but he’s never seen it quite like this.

A week after Harry’s reappearance and Draco  _ knows  _ he’s supposed to be in bed. They have a busy morning tomorrow, Pansy’s forcing them all to go shopping for the Gala on her personal budget. Knowing her they’ll spend the entire day shopping, no matter how early they go, and they’re planning on being there when the shops open. But he can’t fucking sleep and it’s too late to bother Winky, and Merlin help him he is going to have a snack before he fucks off to bed.

That’s the plan at least, and then he hears voices from the main living room.

“I’m going to strangle him.”

_ “Narcissa.” _

“No, no, Lucius. She has a point.”

“Belle! Katie, don’t you have something to say?”

“What? That I completely agree with your wife?”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll kill Dumbledore tomorrow.”

Draco pops his head in at that one, just enough to see what the hell is going on.

His mum’s hair is up and snaky like it is when she’s  _ really  _ mad. Kathrine and Belle sit on the loveseat, idly drinking tea while Lucius watches his pacing wife cautiously.

“As much as I’d love to get rid of that old bastard, I won’t do it with your life on the line.” Lucius reasons.

“And  _ he  _ has  _ crossed  _ a line!” Narcissa whirls on him, “Meddling with pureblood accounts?! He has  _ no right!  _ You’re lucky I haven’t told Sirius yet because he would be  _ just  _ as  _ furious  _ as I am!”

Belle looks up from her tea glass with a frown, “Sissy, love, I do believe this is a wine conversation.”

Katherine nods, “The full story would be nice. I’m always down to trash talk the man who’s making my darling Pansy's life so hard, but facts are much easier to argue in court than feelings.”

Narcissa sits down by her husband and summons bottles of wine. Five for her and one for each of the adults with her. 

“We  _ are  _ going to have to go to court over this, hopefully we won’t have to drag Harry into it, Merlin knows the poor kid has gone through enough…” She eyes her bottle of wine, flicks the top off, and takes a long swig. “Dumbledore’s been pulling too many strings… I should’ve known when we found out about Harry’s past...Those muggles weren’t fit to raise their own child, much less a magical one, and Dumbledore fucking knew that. He  _ stole  _ a priceless Potter airloom, locked Harry away with abusive fuckers under some bullshit lie, and won’t give him access to his own vaults,  _ like an outsider has that type of right.” _

“He would if he fulfilled his role in the first place,” Katheriene sighs, “But seeing that he’s neglected Harry since birth, really, he can’t exactly pull that card. Especially given his blatant overlooking of the Potter Will  _ and  _ Harry’s needs as a magical child.”

They all take a  _ long  _ drink. Narcissa opens another bottle. 

“I can get it thrown out in two days.” Katie tells them. “And I won’t bring Harry into it. Though, he’s hardly pushing for money, you know how rich the Potters were. I doubt the leakage fund is  _ sparse,  _ so what gives?”

Belle leans over to her with a slurred laugh, Draco doesn't notice the two bottles empty at her feet until she knocks them over. “That’s a secret,  _ Katherine.” _

“You, Belladonna, are _ such a fucking ass _ .”

Lucius, the only sober one among them, is looking more and more distressed. “We’ll have to tell Harry eventually. We’re not going to  _ lie  _ to him.”

“You’re right…” Narcissa lays back so her head is right on Lucius’s shoulder. “He’s going to be heartbroken…”

“We’ll have to keep Sirius from killing Dumbledore.” Belle points out.

Katie waves a sluggish hand, “Draco will be worse. I don’t imagine he’ll take kindly when he figures out that Dumbledore….”

“What?” Narcissa laughs, horridly bitter. “That Dumbledore is a liar? He knows that, Katie, he’s a very bright boy.”

Katherine frowns. “That’s not what I meant! I was talking about what he’ll do when he realizes Albus could’ve stopped the abuse.”

Fucking….what?

All those year....eleven years of abuse that Harry's barely told him about. He knows about the violence, that much was obvious with the giant bruises Harry sported on his second day in the Black Manor, but there's so much more he can't even begin to imagine. A dark tiny closet comes to mind, one with a shaking boy, begging for scraps of food.

Draco's blood boils.

He can feel his hair start to rise, his magic cackles around him and he should really get a hold on himself before they figure out he's listening in. Sure, most of the adults are probably half intoxicated, Belle's never been one to hold wine well, but his mother is nothing if not sharp and quick to notice things. He's really not looking to explain what he's doing, even if they are talking rather loudly, eavesdropping is never appreciated. 

Draco takes a deep breath, reminding himself that the shadows will keep him hidden, but only so much. He really should get more familiar with them and less familiar with his growing anger issues..

“With a single word too,” Belle shakes her head. “It’s amazing that  _ we  _ were the corrupt ones.”

Lucius scoffs at them all. “We’re no better. How many people have we killed? The collective body count in this room is an Azkaban sentence waiting to happen...we’re just making up for it now.” 

“Better late than never, hm? Plus, you like these kids, Lucy.” Narcissa hums. “Admit it. You can claim to be partial, but I  _ know  _ you’d kill Dumbledore before you let him hurt Harry again.”

Belle chuckles, “I wonder what your parents would say if they could see you now….Lucius Malfoy, caring father, protector of Harry Potter, friend with the  _ Weasleys,  _ and a  _ muggle supporter.  _ They’re rolling in their graves, aren’t they?”

“Hopefully not. I put enough charms on their tombs to hold them, I think.”

Katheriene snorts at that, eyeing the bottles that have collected on the floor. “Tomorrow morning I’ll mention the situation to the council. How would you like this taken care of?”

“Quickly and quietly.” Narcissa whispers, so low that Draco has to strain to hear her, “Preferably out of court, and without anyone knowing. I’ll tell Harry and Draco when the time is right, and if you could do it without Albus knowing…..”

Katheriene nods. “Of course. I’ll begin tomorrow.”

She starts towards the floo, dragging Belle with her.

“And Katie?” Narcissa says quietly. “This conversation never happened.”

“What conversation?” Katherine says with a wink, right before the green flames swallow the two Slytherin mums up.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  


Draco is hiding something from him.

What he’s hiding, Harry has no fucking clue but it’s something and he is going to get to the bottom of it….right after he finishes his coffee.

Seriously, who the hell wakes up  _ this early  _ to go shopping. And why the  _ fuck  _ did Pansy include them all?

He’s still not sure how she bullied the Weasleys into accepting gifts. Harry’s been trying to do that one for years. It’s always  _ no, Harry  _ or  _ we’re fine, dear  _ or  _ don’t worry about us!  _ But when Pansy asks she suddenly has their measurements and preferred color schemes.

For the moment Harry’s content to imagine that she sat them down and tied them up until they talked, the method worked on him so why  _ wouldn’t  _ it work on his extended family. Maybe he can take a note out of Narcissa’s book and tie up  _ Draco… _

Harry’s face turns red, he hides it in his coffee cup because he did  _ not  _ mean it like that! For  _ interrogation  _ purposes only! That is all-

“Darling, are you okay?” Draco, the current joy and bane of his existence steps right in front of him. “Your face is red, is it the coffee? I  _ told  _ you iced would be better, it’s too hot for hot beverages!”

Harry rolls his eyes, it’s also too hot to be joined at the hip as Pansy weaves them through shops but neither of them are complaining about  _ that.  _

He would, however, like to complain about Draco. Because if he’s going to hide something, he could do better than this. 

The shady eyes, the occasional clenched fist, the smiling too lovingly at him, the way his laugh isn’t as happy as usual, the shaking hands….he’s  _ definitely  _ hiding something.

Harry pulls him back by the elbow, letting the stampede that is their shopping group get a little ahead of them. 

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

“Weird?” Draco scoffs, still not meeting Harry’s eyes. 

“Seriously….did I do something?” Fuck, he’ll feel bad for using the guilt card later, but it’s worth it right now. “If I’ve upset you I didn’t mean to and I’m sorry but, love, I don’t know what I’ve done wrong so I can’t fix it unless you tell me and I-”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah.” Draco cuts him off with a kiss. “You have done  _ absolutely  _ nothing wrong.”

“Then what’s going on? The  _ truth,  _ please.”

Draco purses his lips, that unreadable look clouding over his eyes and Harry hates it. They’re supposed to be honest with each other, all six members of their little gang. They can keep secrets from everyone else, but not each other. 

“I can’t tell you.” Draco says eventually, “But I can tell you that it’s going to work out, and that while I can’t tell you now I can promise you I will be bitching about it later.”

Harry glares at him, fully planning on wiggling it out of him, and then Pansy’s snatching them both by their earlobes and dragging them forward. 

“I understand that you two need time to gaze into each other’s eyes, but you  _ will not  _ get in the way of my  _ planning.  _ Understood?”

They both nod as carefully as they can, she does still have their ears in her grasp. A painful situation that she uses to throw them into the dressing rooms of a shop they didn’t even get to see.

“Try these on!”

The day passes like that, Pansy ordering everyone around and demanding they try on  _ these robes,  _ yelling  _ that’s not how you wear that,  _ asking the shop employees  _ do you have this in a different color?  _ Even the adults that have tagged along with them listen to her, the Slytherins out of amusement, sure, but Harry’s pretty sure the Weasleys might be a little scared of her.

Sirius certainly is.

“She’s a little devil, that one.” He whispers, hiding behind Remus so Pansy can’t find him.

Draco sighs, eyeing his cousin with the same look Narcissa is giving him.

“Sirius,” The elder Malfoy muses, examining her perfect nails, “Hiding won’t work, dear, Pansy can smell fear.”

Sirius visibly pales at the comment, and to make matters ten times funnier, it’s the exact second Pansy spots him and grabs him by the back of his collar.

In all fairness, Draco did warn them. He sent an owl to everyone involved in their little outing, and it very clearly read that today was the day to listen to whatever Pansy said because he would  _ not  _ be responsible for their deaths. 

“It wouldn’t be as bad if Hermione weren’t  _ helping her!”  _ Ron whispers to them during lunch, keeping watch so the two witches in question don’t hear them. They won’t, Hermione and Pansy are at their own table, heads down and examining a parchment that’s taking up all of their attention, but it never hurts to be careful.

Draco shrugs, “She chose the winning side, and you made an enemy of Pansy when you insulted her choice for you. You’re going to pay for that, by the way.”

Ron pouts, he tries to deny it, but by Godric does he pay. Pansy makes him try on five outfits at every shop, including hats, shoes, cummerbunds, socks, at one point she muses that she might force him to go naked. Blaise, the funny little bastard, takes joy in pointing out that he and Theo got done at the first shop. Ron flicks them both off, Pansy forces him into another dressing room.

Other than Pansy’s bullying of Ron the trip goes smoothly. In the end they all have their ball outfits, and no, no one knows what anyone will look like because Pansy is sadistic and very strict in her rules. She even picked out dresses for Luna and Millie who thought they were safe from her planning. Overall, what Harry has learned today is that no one, not even Lucius Malfoy, or Belle Zabini is safe from Pansy Parkinson on a mission.

Well, that and that Draco is definitely hiding something from him. 

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


It doesn’t take long for Harry to figure it out.

Draco’s a good liar, sure, but he’s awful at lying to Harry, and when that pairs with Narcissa’s recent annoyance….well, it’s kinda obvious.

Whatever Draco’s hiding is something he probably found out from listening to Narcissa, and Narcissa has been annoyed for the better part of the last two weeks, ever since he asked her to help him get into his vault.

So, by extension of course, Narcissa might be annoyed with him. Which is understandable, Harry has found that he can, at times, be annoying. But there’s no need to take it out on him so harshly.

_ “Densaugeo!” _

Harry hastily throws up a shield,  _ “Deprimo!” _

“Good!” Narcissa yells, jumping over the hole forming at her feet, already sending another jinx at him. Harry tries to keep up, he’s really rather proud that Narcissa is letting him last this long, but  _ Godric  _ she’s good.

So good that he lands on his ass with her wand in his face. “In this point of our match I would cast the killing curse and you would be dead.”

Harry sighs and lays back on the grass. Neville would have a  _ fit  _ if he saw what they’ve been doing to the Malfoy Gardens, Theo’s only contained his comments out of respect for the Malfoys….or maybe it’s because Belle has been sneaking in training sessions with him too. 

“There’s no need to look so sad,” Belle chides, throwing a towel on his face, “You lasted twice as long as Blaise did. Keep it up and you’ll be beating Lucy over there.”

Harry follows her gaze to where Draco’s training. He’s sweaty and probably doesn’t smell the best but fuck he’s stunning. Wand aimed high, going toe-to-toe with Lucius, he appears to be beating his father back. 

Belle whistles low, “Narcissa, the two of you have created a monster.”

“He’s beautiful isn’t he?” Narcissa coos, “I think I’ll make him a cake when he beats Lucius, he’s such a good son.” 

Harry watches the women smile over Draco’s attempts to kill his father with a sick sort of amusement, but hey, everyone shows their love differently, right? 

Belle takes over his training session so Narcissa can bully Hermione, and by that he means teach her cooler tricks because she’s ‘ready for them’ and he, apparently, isn’t. But it’s okay, he likes training with Belle. She teaches him cool things, like how to blow stuff up, and also to constantly be on guard because she likes to have little ‘slips’. One time she tried to play off a cutting curse like it had been an accident and from that day forward he’s been a little overly wary of her.

Somewhere to their left he can see Fleur and Draco exchanging fires. It’s a beautiful sight, blinding white clashing with a slightly blue fire, making shadows from the bushes. Belle flicks the back of his head.

“Pay attention. If I put poison on my hand you’d be none the wiser and dead by now.”

Harry sighs, but she’s right. They go back to blowing stuff up, something he’s getting better at every day, and then Katheriene comes. 

Katheriene, while not his favorite or least favorite, is an interesting teacher. She’s not as demanding as Narcissa, certainly not as psychotic as Belle, not nearly as gentle as Lucius is but she’s….

“On your feet! I did  _ not  _ give you permission to sit!”

Harry lugs a sigh, getting back into his stance. All he’s doing is standing there, shields covering his entire body, and fighting off her attacks without moving. He understands why, of course. When school starts back this year they’re fully expecting some attempts on his life, so he has to get good at protecting. Shields up constantly. When he’s standing, sitting, walking, his shields should always be with him. 

“Good! Attack time!” Katherine sings, like having a wizard attack you is a good thing. 

On the plus side, Harry’s beaten Katie twice, and has every intention of making today the third time. She waltzes around their area of the garden, inspecting flowers like it’s not a big deal. Like she doesn’t have iron magical shields surrounding her every atom. Harry slinks back, taking a breath and trying to act as casual as he can. All he’s allowed is a flick of his wand or she’ll see him and strengthen her shields. If he can make the webs visible it’s two points but if he breaks them….

He needs five points to win this little game of theirs, and he really wants to move onto Lucius’s training for the day, so he needs to break her with one spell. Harry idly flicks some dirt off his shirt, waiting until Katitheire isn’t looking. 

Her nose goes to the yellow roses. 

In an instant Harry’s whispering a spell and the webs are there, bright and in the open. 

“Nice try!” Katie sings, “But you didn’t try-oh?” 

Harry smiles. Right where his spell hit, the area right over the back of her heart, he can see it clearly. Tiny webs, shattered and fraying. 

Katie smiles back. “Good job, Potter. Have some tea.” 

Harry happily obliges, he keeps his shields up just in case.

Physical shields, because the mental ones are more exhausting and he saves those for his time with Lucius.

Lucius, who is a surprisingly kind teacher. That could be because he’s turned over a new leaf and is having to hurt the very child he saved last year but still. Lucius, being extra nice, is weird. Harry’s used to his sarcasm, his bickering with Sirius and Remus, his poking fun at the Weasleys and his chess games with Ron, his casual recommendations to Hermione, but not outright niceness.

“Take a breath, I can’t warn you, unfortunately, and I have a rather nasty surprise.” The apology goes unspoken, but Harry can hear it in his voice. He’s about to ask what the nasty surprise is, and then Narcissa walks in, fresh off her training with Pansy. She sends him a wicked smile and Harry inwardly sighs.

So much for a relaxing Occlumency session.

The second Narcissa enters the room Harry’s on standby. He waits, patiently at first, for the little prick to come up on the back of his mind. Instead they have tea, biscuits, talk about Draco’s latest potion obsession, discuss Harry’s own therapy sessions that are starting at the beginning of the year. It’s all good and well, but Harry knows this trick. They’re luring him in, giving him a sense of security before the attack.

A brief prick stabs at his mind and Harry’s shields go up, both physically and mentally. He imagines it to be like the Malfoy Manor itself. If his brain is the house, then his Occlumency shields are the wards around the inner gate. They’re big and stunningly silver, with intricate metal work that should allow visitors to slip in, but it won’t because those little gaps are filled with magic so potent it would sever an arm if anyone unwelcome tried to open his gates. His body is the Malfoy land, surrounded by a gate made of magic and obsidian silver. They seem weak, like slipping in is an option, but it’s not. If anyone tries to get past the Malfoy outer gates, they find themselves turned around and confused. They can’t possibly remember _ why  _ they were trying to enter the gates in the first place, and that is Harry’s goal.

To make his shields so strong the sheer strength of them turns people away. 

After ten minutes Narcissa and Lucius are panting and Harry continues to idly sip his tea.

Lucius smiles at him. “Well done, Harry, well done.”

He assumes that’s it for the day. It’s Thursday, the weekend is upon them and Harry is looking forward to showering and dragging Draco to the Weasleys so he can finally fulfill his Triwizard Tournament promise of surviving  _ and  _ making mince pies. But Narcissa sighs, fixing her perfect hair and summoning a bottle of wine and three glasses. She pours the same amount in two of them, and a smaller portion in the final glass that she hands to Harry.

Harry stares at her.

“This is going to be a difficult conversation.” She tells him. “I won’t sugarcoat it, I will not paint it to be kinder than the reality of it is, but I am going to preface it by saying that we have taken care of it. I personally oversaw everything, and ensured that your wish was granted.”

Okay, well now he’s nervous as hell and wants to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Narcissa takes a sip of wine, “Pureblood vaults are bound to the family, and no one but blood relatives can say differently. If there are heirs, they will have access to the family vault as well as they’re own private vault. If there are no heirs, family members lay claim by who is closest on the family tree. Do you understand?”

Harry nods.

“Good. Since the Potters were purebloods, their family followed this rule as well. Evans, Lilly, your mother, married in and adopted their ways, meaning she too became a part of the family eligible to access the Potter vaults. When they had you, you gained access. So, the only people allowed to cut you off would be your grandparents, who died before your mother and father, and your parents who are….well…”

“Dead?” Harry supplies, not liking where this is going at all.

Narcissa nods, continuingly as bluntly as always, “Correct. However, through some digging we found that the Potters made no such restrictions. You should’ve had access to the vaults your entire life, among other things. Pureblood children have nannies that are bound to the child in elf form. Our nanny for Draco was Dobby until he turned ten. You should’ve had one too. For all the liberal attitude the Potters had, they were very traditional in their liberal beliefs.”

Yeah, he kinda figured that in the books that he read. Slytherins and Gryffindors all being a part of one family tends to lead to some morally grey areas. 

“The one who ordered your vault to be locked until you’re seventeen was Dumbledore, love.”

Harry blinks twice, not surprised but still needing a minute that Narcissa grants him. After a second Harry takes a swig of wine and Narcissa continues.

“I’ve already gotten that overturned, seeing that Dumbledore has no legitimate connections to you other than your headmaster, it was rather easy. Especially since Sirius and Remus adopted you. As for your nanny….her name was Podie, and I was told she disappeared the year after your parent’s death.”

Harry finishes his wine with a poorly faked smile. It tastes  _ awful _ . Like a spoiled soda but the warmth spreading through his body is kinda nice. “Right, well if that’s all then-”

“Sit down.” Lucius sighs, glaring slightly at his wife. “The point of all that is that we have the key to your vault and would like to take you to it.”

Harry blinks. He’s done that a lot today, maybe he needs some eye drops. He’d say a new pair of glasses but Sirius and Remus are already working on that. 

“You….you want to take me to my vault?”

“Yes? I know it’s uncommon, but Sirius and Remus are in a meeting until late tonight and this way you can get whatever you want with someone to make sure you’re alright. We won’t go in, of course, it’s not our vault to plunder, but we will be there if you have any questions.”

Harry ignores the painful tug in his chest, opting for nodding instead.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


The Potter vault is both nothing and everything that he’d hoped it’d be.

There’s gold, so much fucking gold, gold to the point that it’s spilling out of nooks and crannies, and according to the goblin Crik, there are a hundred rooms filled to the brim with gold. Which apparently puts him below the Malfoys, who have two hundred and fifty rooms of gold. He can’t imagine looking at it all, he’s actually rather happy that he has no idea what a ‘room of gold’ is worth. 

Partly because being that rich seems unnecessary, but also because he’s more concerned about the other part of his vault, the part that is filled with odd little trinkets.

Like snake eggs, a Slytherin house cup right next to a Gryffindor blanket. There are tapestries, one beautifully woven ‘Potter’ symbol that’s a mix of greens, purples, blues, and reds. He pops that one into his extended bag that he borrowed from Narcissa for this very purpose. There’s a handful of mirrors that do funny things to his faces, bottles labels ‘attempt’ with various numbers on them, paintings that whisper about him, carpets, crowns, bracelets, necklaces, wigs, clothing, and in the very back is a bookshelf that has exactly what he's looking for.

The bookshelf isn’t a bookshelf, more like a book room. Harry skims through the titles on the spines until the right ones strike him:  _ A Potter’s Written Account, Journal of Eponine, Death Becomes, A Field Guide to Magical Snakes.  _ Most of them seem necessary until he sees one that makes no sense. It’s a little black book, with no title or preface. Harry opens it up and can barely make out the handwriting, but the dates are far back enough that he deems it important and takes the other books like it. Maybe it’ll be useful, but who’s to say. 

It’s his vault and he’ll do what he wants with it. 

All in all he’s in there for well over his two hour time limit. There's a lot to look at, so much he wants to take with him, so much he wants to explore. So much of a family that was stolen from him, finally here, right before his very eyes. Gringotts, however polite they might be to the Malfoys, do not care about the emotional break down Harry's trying not to have. Their closing bells ring despite his need for more time. It's funny in a way. Harry never seems to have enough time. He exits with his tapestry, his books, a bracelet of leather that makes him feel safe, a picture of his family tree, and a picture book from his parent’s wedding.

Narcissa, back to her cold front because they’re technically in public, eyes his wrist. He nods just once and they’re back in the cart, sitting as gracefully as they can until they’re at the top of Gringotts’ weird roller coaster, flooing back to the Black Manor.

“How was it? I’m sorry we couldn’t go with you, Poppet, but we rushed home to meet you, was it fun? Did you get anything?” Sirius asks the second they’re in the main living room. He rushes up and grabs Harry’s cheeks, cupping them and looking him over.

“Paddy, calm down. It was just his vault.”

“Yeah, but you never know what’s in a pureblood vault. You remember what mine was like!”

Remus shutters. The moment is quickly broken by Narcissa gently looking at his wrist. 

“A protection bracelet? Merlin, I haven’t seen one of these since my grandmother was around…”

Lucius grabs Harry’s wrist and holds it up so he can inspect it. “Woven with Unicorn leather? That’s some strong stuff.”

“Hmm?” Sirius peeks his head over, “Hey! That looks like the bracelet James used to wear. He wore it in every fight and always came out okay. Mama Potter gave it to him when he started school to keep him safe. She wanted to make the lot of us one when the War started but the magic only works for Potters.”

Harry looks down at it.

The bracelet certainly doesn't  _ look  _ special. Just a thinly braided leather strip woven around his wrist. That being said, Katherine Parkinson doesn’t  _ look  _ special and she could probably kill him in a moment’s notice. He chalks it up to appearances meaning nothing and nods to the talking adults. They all hug him ‘goodnight’, even Lucius offers him a weird parting, and then he lugs his bag upstairs and enlists Kreecher to help him.

“Master Harry is  _ sure?”  _

Harry nods and the tapestry is over his bed. “Thanks Kreecher! And hey, I’m gonna go missing again but like….maybe don’t lock the door again? Unless it’s necessary, of course, then do whatever you please.”

Kreecher gives him a look, but the message gets across.

It probably gets across.

Harry  _ hopes  _ it gets across.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Harry’s gone missing again and Draco is going to murder him for it.

It wouldn’t be that bad if Harry didn’t have horrible timing and decide to pull this little stunt the week before the Summer Gala when Pansy is at her worst. She’s barking orders, scaring the teenagers and adults alike, demanding taste testing, snapping at any and everyone and no one is here to save him.

Ron shields Hermione, even though Hermione is in on most of Pansy’s tasks. Blasie and Theo have a mutual bond to look after each other. And they’ve all thrown Draco to the dogs. The dog, the worst one with big teeth and scary eyes, in the form of Pansy on a mission.

“Keep up!” She snaps at him. “It’s bad enough I don’t have Harry to help, you’re not even  _ good  _ at cooking!”

“Shut up or I won’t help you at all.” Draco tells her. He’d make Winky help him but all the elves are busy as shit these days trying to keep up with the Manor work  _ and  _ Pansy’s craziness. “You know you don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

Pansy freezes midstep, turning to cup his cheek. “I love you but you have put me through so much hell these last few years, the least you can do it  _ fucking help me  _ when I need it.”

Draco huffs. He  _ would  _ help her whenever she needs it, he just wishes that help was less a ‘party planning’ thing and more of a ‘save a life in a fight’ situation. Seriously, just because he’s good at planning and his mother is busy does not mean he has to become Pansy’s little slave-

“Oh my  _ god!  _ Did they put  _ purple tulips with red roses?!  _ For a  _ Summer Event?!” _

Pansy nods. “See, now you know why I need you.”

And need him she does. 

They prance around for the next few days, going over flower choices, dress coordination, event times, what music will be played, the selection of songs for the performers, snacks, teas, what wines pair well with the foods. Are finger sandwiches too middle-class; should they do a full meal at every table; who’s going to sit at what table; and where they want the press section to be because Draco will hex them all if their pictures get in the way of him dancing with Harry; what candles are going to go on what tables?

Truth be told, Draco doesn’t know how many days pass with his friends cowering every time he, Hermione, and Pansy enter a room. All he knows is that the Gala is three days away and  _ that  _ is when Harry decides to make a reappearance. 

Draco looks down at him with his arms crossed, making sure Harry knows how  _ fucking pissed  _ he is. Harry at least has the brains to look sorry, flicking his eyes between the six teenagers and his parents. He drums his nails on the little black book in his hand.

“Hi.”

_ “Hi?!”  _ Draco shouts,  _ “You’ve been gone for a week and all you have to say is ‘hi’?!”  _

It’s official, Draco is about to become a murder. He is going to burn the ends of Harry’s annoyingly cute curly hair until it’s bald. 

“Um,” Harry offers intelligently, “I’m sorry?”

Draco stares at him.

They all do really, with varying expressions of disbelief, pity, fury, and slight concern.

“Look. I didn’t  _ mean  _ to-”

“You  _ never  _ ‘mean to’ but you get careless-”

“-I was just looking into my history-”

“-and then you don’t let us know-”

“-and as it turns out-”

“-we worry for you, you moron!” Draco finishes right as Harry sums up his adventures with “-basically I’m related to Death.”

Draco blinks twice, behind him a teacup falls to the ground and shatters into a million pieces. He turns around to see Sirius, eyes wide, teacup in shards by his feet. 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that, Harry? Because I could’ve sworn you just said Death?”

Harry nods, “Yep.” He pops the ‘p’ for no fucking reason. “Death. The big guy, or maybe small guy? Anyways, um, it’s a long story-”

“And we have time!” Draco says, grabbing Harry by his free hand and forcing him to the nearest empty couch. The rest of them slip into couches, the teens scattered between the other love seats while the adults take residence on the bigger couch by the fire.

“Talk.” Draco tells him.  _ “Now.” _

Harry sighs, “You’re an asshole.”

“An asshole who will kill you if you don’t start talking.”

He wouldn’t, he’s actually in the process of rubbing his thumb over Harry’s hand, but no one calls him on it. Not even Harry.

“Right….So, in the first book I read there were all these sayings. Almost puns if you looked closely, that’s what took me so long to figure out. I thought I was going crazy, but after like the twentieth one I figured it might be a clue or something, you know how obvious solutions like to slap me in the face, so I looked back.”

“The funny thing about all the Potters I read about is that they don’t die easily. Think about it. I probably should be dead from first year alone, like seriously. Eleven years old and doing what we did back then? None of us should’ve made it out alive. My dad only died because of Snake-Face, his dad died because he was like seventy and got Dragon Pox, and I had no idea what that is but I looked it up and apparently most people make it one year before death and my granddad made it ten? I thought that was strange so I kept looking.”

Harry stands up to pace, shaking the little black book as he goes, “It’s like they only died in extreme circumstances. There was Ornel, the mermaid conqueror, Anvi the Dragon Tamer, the dude who traded in the middle of a war, that lady who conquered an entire small country by herself, Potters who literally looked in the face of Death and just kinda said ‘no’. At first I thought we were just ballsy, but then I read Luna’s book and it mentioned the darker side of the Potter history, or I thought it was dark, but every family has a few dark creatures, right? But I couldn’t stop thinking about the Death thing, which is why I wanted into my vault in the first place and I thought I was crazy for taking it with me but  _ this-” _

Harry throws the little black book on the table, hands shaking so hard Draco worries they might fall off. 

_ “This  _ is an account from Iolanthe Peverell, the lady who married Hardwin Potter  _ way  _ back in the day, I’m talking when Dragons were still happily terrorizing people, which was a  _ revelation, by the way.  _ And I know what you’re thinking- who’s this Peverell Lady? Well let me tell you she-”

Draco stands from his seat, grabs his boyfriend’s wrist, and pulls him in for a hug because he clearly needs it and no one else is going to do it.

Plus, they know who Peverell is.

_ Everyone  _ knows who the Peverells are.

“Who are the Peverells?” Hermione asks as Winky pops into the room with what’s hopefully a Calming Draught.

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but Draco shakes his head. He pulls Harry back to their couch and sits them both down, throwing an arm and a blanket over Harry for good measure.

“You need a moment, love.” Draco whispers. He waits for Harry’s body to slump next to his before giving a nod to Lucius.

“The Peverells….” Lucius sighs. “There is an old wives’ tale called the Deathly Hallows. Essentially, there were once three brothers who were gifted tools to escape Death.”

“But there weren’t three, and it isn’t like that at all.” Harry whispers. 

To be completely honest, Draco’s had quite enough of this. Harry  _ clearly  _ needs sleep and a couple hundred kisses, some tea, maybe a bubble bath. He’s nearing a breaking point of his own, to the point that Sirius and Remus can’t take their eyes off him.

“Do you want to explain or would you rather the book did it?” Draco asks him, hoping to fuck Harry will chose the book. 

He does, thankfully. And all Draco has to do is flick his wand in the book’s direction and a woman pops up.

She’s beautiful.

Draco is a hundred percent sure he’s as gay as they come and the woman before him is  _ still  _ stunning. 

Long hair braided up in a bun, white dressing gown, wide eyes and a perfect smile that quickly turns into a frown. Draco wonders for a second if the book-watching spell will work differently for diaries, but Blaise didn’t stop him so he assumes it’s okay.

The lady picks up a quill, a feather that Draco doesn’t recognize, and scowls.

_ “Father has done it again, bringing us to more land upon which we shall have to reap and sow his grandfather’s curse. A curse for us all, clearly, as even I in all my beauty and all my power cannot escape the legacy that hath been decided for me from my birth. A supposed ‘birthright’”  _ She pauses to laugh bitterly,  _ “Fools among men assume there is safety from my forefathers, yet they do not know the complexities of our ‘births’, if one can assume we are born like others on these green grounds. My Anglish is bettering, Father insisted we learn most of the horrid language in order to assimilate ourselves, a smart tactic or so I thought until we arrived and discovered only our neighbors, that Potter clan, can hold conversation with us. He is trying to arrange for Hardwin’s hand in my marriage, though I am uncertain if his decision is biased. I cannot yet tell if Father enjoys Hardwin’s presence or wishes to curse him as we have been cursed.” _

She puts down the pen, her image fades to nothing. The book flips through several pages, coming to rest on another image of the woman, this time with her hair down and a new pen that seems to be fancier, but Draco honestly can’t tell through the ghostly image.

_ “Hardwin and I are to be married in a fortnight. Father refuses to share our history until the bonds are tied, a bloodbath if he is not careful. Recklessness….where will it lead us? Us, the mighty Peverell family, descendant from Death and able to outlive those before and after us, getting involved with Snake-People. Yes, Hardwin revealed it to me. His forefathers learned from the great beasts that live under mountains and terrorize the skies. To think! Friends with Serpents and those that Serpents cower from! His family will only gain from our alliance, and what of our family? Will we hide our nature behind a serpent’s tongue, will my children marry with creatures that conceal our dark history? We should live proudly, just like mother and her grandmother, great grandmother Medusa, all the mothers leading back to the great night that Kematia wed the master of all creation. The master of which I will meet shortly. I must confess, I do not desire to speak with Death before my bonds are sealed, but my wishes are stolen from me as my pride has been. Father will pay for this, Death will make sure of it.” _

Draco looks to Harry with wide eyes, but Harry’s eyes are closed. His head leans on Draco’s shoulder, soft snores escape his mouth. Draco tucks him closer, turning back to watch the woman appear again. Aged, tired, with bags under her eyes and laugh lines clouding her face. A ring gleams on the hand that picks up yet another new pen.

_ “Years have passed since I have written to my secret keeper. Hardwin and I are expecting a grandchild, her name is to be Anvi. He speaks with Death regularly in his old age, and I know my kin will claim him soon. Our cloak has already been passed to Eliki, he wears it proudly, eagerly awaiting the day he can pass it to his own child. Death….has become a dearer friend to me than in my youth. The avenging of my father allows for freer conversations, there is much we discuss in my own old age. Death has agreed to take us both. Hardwin and I, embracing the darkness to meet others in whatever remains, together. Our last great adventure will be in each other's arms. Death refuses to give me details, as a relative I am hardened, but as a breathing being I am glad. I do not fear meeting with my kin in my final moments, I have no regrets for the life I have lived past many of the young ones in the village. It was not my time then, Death never puts a time stamp on those in my family, as it is his family, and his family will forever be timeless. My last wish for my dearest Eliki is that he continue our tradition, that he stick close to our ever present relative, that he too becomes a friend to Death, the protector of us all.” _

She fades out with a smile, and no one really knows what the fuck to do. Sure, Draco might be related to a couple of dark creatures, Grinderwald comes to mind, but not fuckin  _ Death- _

“This doesn’t mean anything!” Hermione says. Draco has never been happier to see that little gleam in her eyes. “It doesn’t! At most, maybe the old wives’ tale is true, but Death isn’t a person, it’s an action. Maybe it got lost in the translation, maybe the old Potters struck some sort of deal, but-”

Ron shakes his head. “Hermione. Think about it. In all our years Harry has come close. If it’s possible-”

“It…” Lucius heaves a sigh. “It might not be Death, but a creature close to it. No one knows the true extent of magical creatures that roamed the Earth before humans took over. My history books don’t go back far enough to tell, but this is from tribal times. I’m willing to bet it’s a person with deadly power, or very good protection over them. A leader of the clan, perhaps?”

Sirius and Remus look less stressed about the whole thing, and Harry is still fast asleep on Draco’s arm. 

He tries to imagine Harry as immortal, and it just doesn’t sit right with him. Lucky as fuck, sure, but not immortal. That mental image is saved for a hairless, weirdly colored skin, snake-looking freak. Not his adorable boyfriend who may or may not be snuggling closer to him. Besides, Harry’s not dangerous enough to be related to something like Death. 

Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask Geia about it. 

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Harry still isn’t sure how he got dragged into this. 

He knows the Malfoys have  _ connections,  _ but sneaking into Hogwarts in the middle of summer seems a bit much. 

Snape glares at him as he exits the man’s floo. “Tell me someone came with you- oh good, you’re not an idiot after all.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Draco smirks back. “You can act all you’d like, I know you miss me.”

The corners of Snape’s mouth flick up at the remark, but it fades away to a familiar grimace. 

“I will follow you to the Chamber, but I have no intention of seeing the ancient beast.”

“She’s not a beast!” Draco protests, leading this weird little group outside to the dungeons. Snape’s office  _ would  _ be in the dungeons. “Her name is Geia and she is wonderful, beautiful, and usually a big hand in stuff like this.”

“Yes, it’s almost as though she’s an ancient beast.”

Harry tries, he  _ tries  _ not to laugh at Snape’s joke, but Snape is  _ fucking joking!  _ The laugh escapes out of shock, not because Harry couldn’t force it down.

He’s half convinced that what they’re doing is illegal. It’s the middle of the night, no one but the three of them are in the fucking school, and the paintings are all glaring something nasty at them. It feels illegal.

“It’s not illegal.” Draco tells him. “Stop fidgeting, we’re almost there.”

Snape rolls his eyes, Harry glares at both of them.

His mood lightens when he sees the third floor girl’s restroom. True to his word, Snape does not follow them into the sink, merely strikes up a conversation with Myrtle, which is also weird as hell but Harry doesn’t have time to think about it because Draco is quite literally  _ dragging  _ him down to the Chamber. Harry didn’t want him to come, he needs sleep with all that shit Pansy’s been dragging him into. Harry had a thirty minute nap, he’s completely fine, no matter what his slightly more qualified healer boyfriend says. Actually, what he’d really like is to curl up with Draco in bed and fall asleep together. It’s beneficial, they get to be around each other  _ and  _ take care of their body’s needs. 

The second they’re in Geia’s room Harry takes everything back. 

_ “Child?” _

_ “Geia!”  _

It’s always weird hugging her, but Harry does it anyway. He throws both arms around her neck, it doesn’t come close to a real hug, but it’s the fucking thought that counts. Basilisks don’t get hugs often. It’s a crime, really. Geia is too sweet to not get a million hugs a year, but that could be his personal bias talking. 

_ “What are you doing here? Is it not the wrong time? You have been gone for a day!” _

_ “I’ve been gone for a good two months.”  _ Harry tells her. 

Draco interrupts them to hug Geia himself. He sneakily checks her healed wounds, or he thinks he’s being sneaky about it. Geia huffs.

_ “Your mate is obvious.” _

_ “He’s not my-well, I-”  _ Harry blushes.  _ “The modern term is boyfriend, not mate.” _

_ “I am aware.” _

Harry scowls.

_ “I am assuming you did not come here to debate my terminology, young Potter. Something great is weighing on your mind.” _

Huh. They really do have a connection.

_ “It’s my ancestors. I already figured most of it out, being related to Medusa, our connection since I made friends with the Serpent King, that’s you by the way, in case you forgot, but uh, I was looking into my ancestors and, well, do you know anything about this Death dude I’m related to?” _

Snakes can’t snort. They can’t, and Geia does it anyways. He seriously needs to get her some googly eyes. It would look fucking ridiculous to have giant ones in place of her scarred eye-sockets, but then she’d at least be able to roll her eyes like Harry knows she wants to.

_ “His name was not Death, though I suppose he was just as fearsome….Do you remember when I showed you the beginning of humans? When my kind was forced to flee as humans rose in power?” _

Harry nods, remembering the visions of Dragons in purple nests, trees with smiling faces, fire pixies picking on water sprites. He then remembers that Geia, having lost her eyes because of him, can’t fucking see him.  _ “Yes.” _

_ “Good. Then you should know about the factions. In the olden wizard ages, there were two mindsets. One was that magic should be on the rise, wizards were more powerful, more in tune with the Earth, better suited to rule. The other was that wizards should make peace with the humans, teach them their ways, offer guidance.” _

Harry can see it in his mind’s eye. Just like last time, Geia gives him an image so clear. Two men, each on opposite sides, each powerful in their own rights, but separated by a great divide.

_ “They didn’t expect what the humans would do, though they should have seen it coming as we should have. The witch hunts.” _

Fire engulfs the men, the people standing behind them fade to ashes. 

_ “Humans were afraid of magic, you see. They took magical creatures and killed them, and through their crazed haze they came to believe that live-burning was the only way to kill a magical human. It forced wizarding kind into hiding, well, most of them. There was one gifted wizard who refused. He lashed out at the humans, killing as many as he could, and try as they might, no one could stop him.” _

He’s scruffy looking, this dude. Wild black hair, purple eyes, a crazed smile that looks uncomfortably like Riddle’s. 

_ “He became known as Death to humans, though he was not nearly as scary. What he had was luck. That luck let him live and terrorize humans for years until he met Kematia, the woman who is known as the Tamer of Death. In truth, she was a beautiful lady with healing powers like no other. She was Medusa’s great grandmother, one of Anvi’s ancestors. Anvi never told me her full story, but what I know is that she was unafraid of him. She stood before this man and he fell to her. It was her thoughts and ideas that created the small peace that allowed me to live with Asklepios. You should be thankful to receive that man’s luck and that woman’s kindness.” _

Harry blinks at her twice. He really should get some eye drops, but that can wait until later because right now he just really wants to know;  _ “Right. So I’m not related to Death?” _

He is going to get Geia some googly eyes if it fucking kills him. He’ll even teach her how to roll them. All she’ll have to do is nod her giant head and the plastic bits will do all the rest. Sure, it’ll be funny as hell, but then she can give him a well deserved eye roll.

_ “No, Harry, you are not related to Death.” _

_ “Just a super lucky dude and people who really like snakes, right?” _

Geia laughs at him. Snakes can’t laugh but there is not a single doubt in his mind; Geia is definitely laughing at him.  _ “Correct.” _

Oh, thank Godric. 

Sure, he knows his life is cursed of whatever, the whole dead parents and fighting an evil psychopath every year thing, but at least he’s not related to Death itself. That’s a whole point for him and like...five hundred points to the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a bit long, usually i cut off chapters at the 13 page mark but this one is like 15, my bad. anyways, i'm halfway through the next chapter and excited because there's a surprise guest. also! i hope you were all happy to see Geia again, i love her so very much and couldn't resist sneaking her in


	9. A Summer Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it’s a good thing that his boyfriend isn’t related to Death. Yes, he has a list of things he has to manage today. Yes, Pansy is going to be a giant asshole until this stupid Gala is over. Yes, they’re at the beginning of a war. And, yes, there’s a high possibility that a crazed snake-man might crash their party and kill everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! MERRY CHRISTMAS! I've included a link to everyone's christmas present at the very bottom of the chapter!

Draco’s really got to get his priorities sorted out. 

Yes, it’s a good thing that his boyfriend isn’t related to Death. Yes, he has a list of things he has to manage today. Yes, Pansy is going to be a giant asshole until this stupid Gala is over. Yes, they’re at the beginning of a war. And, yes, there’s a high possibility that a crazed snake-man might crash their party and kill everyone.

But none of that compares with the fact that Pansy has him in a  _ maroon  _ suit.  _ Maroon.  _ As in  _ red.  _ As in the one color that he cannot, no matter how hard he tries, pull off. It washes him out, makes him look paler than usual, makes his hair look duller, and is far too dark for his underlying tones and she  _ knows  _ this. She does! She was the one that told him that red was ugly on him when they were  _ children!  _

And here he is, glaring at himself in the mirror, because Pansy is a sadistic fuck who put him in a maroon suit.

A knock on his door draws his attention away from his mirror. Harry’s head pops in, soon followed by his whole body and it is unfair for him to always look this good. 

His hair is in a curly loose bun, bits and pieces dangling out of it. Wearing a green suit, a Slytherin green suit. It’s similar to Draco’s style, open blazer and a white undershirt. Casual high-waisted pants with a little lion belt Pansy must have gotten as a joke. Only it’s not a joke. Harry looks good enough to eat and Draco’s hormones cannot handle this in the middle of fretting about his own looks.

He’s literally perfect. Even with the stupid scar on full display he is beautiful, stunning, amazing, spectacular and very much in Draco’s personal bubble.

Harry slides his hands onto Draco’s waist. “Wow.” Is all he says, and Draco fucking hates it.

“I  _ know!”  _ He whines, “Pans put me in the worst color and it completely washes out my skin and I-”

“What are you talking about? You look beautiful. Like you could kill me, yes, but beautiful all the same.”

Draco glares at him. Harry, the bastard, just kisses the top of his nose and drags him out of his room.

The Gala starts in thirty minutes. Well, technically it starts in an hour, but guests who care will be arriving thirty minutes early because that’s just how these things go. 

As much as he hates to admit it, especially with his fucking suit, Pansy did an amazing job. Flowers and vines hang from the ceiling like the Manor has been turned into a livable garden. Tickseeds, lavenders and asters mix with marigolds, hibiscuses, and colossus. The flower walls lead from the front doors of Malfoy Manor, past the main living room, into the ballroom that leads outside where a majority of tonight’s events will take place. Pansy has dining scheduled in the gardens, outside and inside dancing, drinks that reflect their flower choices.

“Holy shit.” Harry whispers, and yeah. Draco completely agrees. Pansy on a mission might be terrifying, but she does a  _ damn  _ good job.

But, if you think about something evil long enough it will turn up, and before Draco can even point out the canas in the midst of all the other flowers Pansy is sliding up to them.

She looks stunning. Her dress is a simple tan tie-around, strappy in the back and concealing just enough in the front. Hair pulled back into a curly bun that mimics Harry’s, though hers is much longer. She’s done her makeup, the most prominent features her dark cherry lips or her sparkly eyelids, Draco isn’t sure which one he likes the most but he does know he loves every bit of it. 

He kisses her on her cheek, “You look lovely.”

“As do you.”

Draco’s irritation strikes again, or it tries to, but Harry steps in front of him to tell Pansy how amazing everything is  _ before  _ he can hex her.

Not that he doesn’t want to.

Interestingly enough, Blaise and Theo match. They descend the stairs bickering, Theo’s light blue tux hangs off his navy undershirt, so similar to Blaise’s lavender tux with a dark purple button up. It  _ can’t  _ be a coincidence, not with Pansy’s knowing smirk. Draco would like to comment on that too but then Hermione joins their little groups and  _ honestly.  _

Hermione just seems to get prettier each year. And every time Pansy dresses her Draco nearly mistakes her for a princess instead of his dorkiest friend. Today Pansy has her in a burnt orange mid-thigh dress, a slit going up to expose her dark legs. The dress hangs off her shoulders that have either been highlighted or dipped in gold. Her hair flows behind her in a sea of curls and Draco is the first to tell her how beautiful she looks.

Pansy seems a little shell shocked by the whole thing.

“Do you like it?” Hermione asks her, tucking her hair behind her ear, “Mrs. Zabini helped me with my makeup since I’ve….well I’ve never known how to do it right with my skin...does it look okay?”

Pansy quickly schools herself, though her cheeks seem to be redder than Draco remembers “Yes, you look-”

“Beautiful.”

Ron  _ would  _ show up at the worst time possible. Draco shares a look with Harry, who’s also rolling his eyes. Well, he is until he sees Ron because Merlin help them all, their friend looks….handsome?

Hermione’s eyes go wide and yeah, Draco gets it. He himself can’t quite believe that the well groomed gentleman in front of them is Ron. Wearing a brown suit, black undershirt, and polished shoes? Who the hell taught him to polish his shoes like that? Draco would like to know because he can’t polish shoes for shit. He tried it once and the elves banned him from doing it ever again.

“Sorry,” Ron blushes, ruining the cool effect of his outfit. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You look good,” He says to Hermione, then quickly amends; “You all do! Look good, that is. I mean-”

Theo snorts. “Ronald, you have a  _ spectacular  _ way with words.”

“Shut up, Theo.”

Pansy, having recovered from her shock, grabs Draco by his forearm. She digs her nail into his jacket with an annoying polite smile. “You, my love, are helping me greet.”

“Why?! This is  _ your  _ party!”

“Yes, but it’s  _ your  _ house.”

“Make my mum do it!”

Pansy gives him a look, “I will  _ not.  _ Narcissa and Lucius aren’t arriving for another hour. They’ll make an appearance at the beginning of dinner.”

“Beginning of dinner- they’re  _ upstairs right now!”  _ Harry points out. 

So valiantly, so sweet, and so, so very wrong. Draco frowns at his situation before kissing his boyfriend goodbye. 

How tacky would it be to arrive early to one’s own Gala?

  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Harry doesn’t really get the whole ‘fashionably late’ concept, but Pansy drags Draco off before he can say anything. He’s expecting to stand around for a while, chat with his friends, maybe even heckle Ron about his awful flirting, and then Blaise and Theo take hold and all his hopes and dreams shatter.

If Draco and Pansy are greeting guests, the rest of them are apparently in charge of entertaining until dinner begins. 

It’s like a storm, if he’s honest. One minute Blaise is telling him why his outfit is better than usual and the next they’re in a line chatting with strangers like it’s a normal occurrence. Blaise and Theo take all the hard ones; Ministry employees, foreigners, high ranking officials. Which leaves him, Ron, and Hermione with the others.

At least he understands  _ why  _ Luna is the way she is.

“The thing about nargles,” Xenophilius says while Harry tries not to stare at his carrot suit, “Is that they’re everywhere! You can’t look once without seeing them, certainly not twice. And tell me, Harry Potter, as a young orphan you certainly have a strong case, so how  _ do  _ you-”

Luna, clad in her own banana-inspired dress, cuts him off with a smile. “Harry can’t have nargles because he has good friends, papa. Look! Do you see the canaries outside?”

Xenophilius leaves the conversation in search of canaries without a single glance back. 

“Thanks, Luna.”

“You’re welcome, Harry. Though there’s no need to thank me, it’s awfully rude to ask someone about their nargal infestations when you’re just met them. I won’t tell anyone about the ones above your head, of course. Between us I think we’re the only ones that know they’re there.”

Meeting up with Cedric and Cho is less confusing, but even more anxiety inducing.

Cho grabs him in a hug while he’s mid-conversation with Neville.

“Harry Potter  _ I am so proud of you!”  _ She turns Harry around, similar to the way a tornado would yank a house out of place. “I never thought you and Draco would go public so soon!”

Cedric greets him with a smile, “It’s the Gryffindor courage, isn’t it?”

“Something like that.”

“Who  _ cares  _ what it is!” Cho rolls her eyes, “All that matters is how much progress you’ve made, and don’t you  _ dare  _ let the paper’s trash tell you any different. There are thousands of people ecstatic to see you’re happy in a relationship.”

“But you’re still too young to court.”

Harry turns and grins at the eldest Weasley sibling before Fleur is cutting everyone off to hug Cedric. 

_ “Mon amie!  _ Look at you and your beloved! Cho,  _ mon cher,  _ you are more beautiful each time I see you.”

“Me?! Fleur you have it all wrong! You can’t go a second without outshining everyone in the room.”

It’s a total lie. Both girls look good in Harry’s opinion. Draco looks better, of course, but he can still appreciate that Cho’s dress looks like something out of a summer catalogue and Fleur is doing her never ending princess impersonation.

“No one knows she’s a vicious beast.” Ron whispers to him.

Bill glares, Ron really needs to work on his volume control.

“A beast?” Fleur coos at him, turning from whatever conversation she and Cho were having, “I am only a beast because you refuse to work on your shields.”

“My shields are fine! And you’re not a beast! You just…” Ron gulps. “You’re a very tough teacher.”

Harry pats his friend’s back. “Ignore him. Fleur, you’re wonderful and Ron just has a  _ spectacular _ way with words.”

Ron elbows him, but Fleur leaves with a smile so it’s a win in his books. 

After what seems like an eternity of shaking people’s hands and smiling Harry is released to grab a drink. His throat feels a bit like a dessert, and he’s perfectly content to hide by the refreshment table next to whoever this brunette guy is.

Wait a minute.

“Willie?” Harry asks, eyeing up the blue eyes glaring at him. “You’re William, right? Ellios’s son?”

He gets a glare in return. 

“Right….”

Deciding that he actually doesn’t fancy being glared at for no reason, Harry leaves the drink table. He fully plans on finding someone,  _ anyone,  _ to latch onto and then a weirdly familiar girl in a blue summer dress is stepping in front of him.

“Harry Potter? I’m Astoria Greengrass, I don’t believe we got the chance for a formal introduction last year.”

A school mate. A posh school mate, but they’re the same age. Surely this won’t make him feel like he’s drowning.

“You’re Daphne's sister, right?”

Astoria smiles at him. “Yes, I also went to the Yule Ball with Draco.”

Harry frowns.

“Don’t worry!” Astoria laughs, “I swear I’m not interested, promise. I just thought I’d say hi, you looked like you’re drowning over here.”

“Yeah it’s….it’s different from what I’m used to. Not in a bad way, of course. Pansy and Draco did a wonderful job with everything.”

“Pansy always does a wonderful job.” Astoria tells him. She proceeds to gush about Pansy in a very...enthusiastic way that leaves him a little awestruck himself. Yeah, anyone can tell that Pansy is amazing, but to be doing this shit since she was eleven? 

All in all, Astoria is nice enough for Harry to hang out with. She takes him over to her sister, gets him mingling with Susan Bones and her apparently important official aunt, steers him clear of shady looking politicians, and delivers him safely to Millie before wandering off and chatting up a shady looking lady who’s clearly wealthy.

“You okay?” Millie hands him some water, “The Greengrasses can be a little much. Daph isn’t as bad as Astoria but she still exhausts me sometimes.”

“I feel like I've been on a rollercoaster.”

Millie scrunches up her nose. “Why would you roll a coaster? That’s exactly how messes are made.”

Oh  _ Godric.  _ His pureblood friends don’t know. He’s about to have  _ so  _ much fun. 

Harry launches into a description that catches some of his other friends’ attention. Theo and Blaise wonder over, shortly followed by Ron and Neville. The  _ looks  _ on their faces are so funny Harry nearly laughs a few times, but by the end Theo and Neville are horrified and the rest are  _ thrilled.  _

“I can’t believe we don’t have anything like that!” Blaise wines. “It’s a  _ tragedy!  _ You have to bully Sirius into taking us.”

“Your mum could do it too,” Mille points out, even though she’s also thrilled by the thought of hanging upside for a few seconds. 

Ron, a fan of the high drops and high speeds, nods. “Let’s just not take dad. He’ll spend the whole day asking about the machines and not letting us actually ride one.”

“As he should! It doesn’t sound  _ safe.  _ And it messes up your hair?! Absolutely not.”

Neville nods, completely in agreement with Theo even though Harry’s pretty sure he’d love it. Provided he gets on in the first place, of course. 

Draco comes up to them and demands they disperse, to which Blaise snorts.

“You just want Harry all to yourself.”

Draco grabs his arm, pulling him close. “And? He  _ is  _ my boyfriend.”

“And he’s mine and ‘Mione’s best fr- wait. Where is Hermione?”

_ Fuck. _

Have they lost her? In the midst of a bunch of probably bloodpurist politicians? It’s not that she’s not safe. Narcissa would smite anyone dumb enough to be rude at  _ her  _ house party, well, she’d smite whatever Hermione left of them because truth be told she’s really not the witch to mess with. Still, knowing that she’s alone out there is a little terrifying. If it were Harry he’d be a fucking goner.

“Is she…” Theo squints into the crowd, laughing seconds later. “Merlin’s balls, she’s talking up Amelia Bones  _ and  _ Kingsley.”

Draco snorts, quickly covering it with a cough.

“I don’t get it.” Harry tells them because he  _ doesn’t.  _ He knows Susan Bones, a lovely Hufflepuff who may or may not scare him a little. She’s too Slytherin to be in Hufflepuff, but other than her plots that he hears through Hogwarts Gossip, she’s a nice one. Definitely someone he could be stuck in a room with. And Kingsley might be an Auror, but he wasn’t afraid of Narcissa. Harry honestly likes the chap.

Blaise gives him a look before he realizes something and sighs. “Clueless. I can’t  _ believe  _ I didn’t give you a crash course before setting you lose out here. Merlin, if Astoria hadn’t found you, you would’ve been swallowed whole.”

“Astoria found you?” Draco asks, drowning out Harry’s indignant “Hey!”

Blaise is having none of it. He wrenches Harry from Draco’s side and points right to where Hermione is, chatting up Kingsley and a nice-looking lady with brown hair that he recognizes as Susan’s aunt. 

“Kingsley, I know he’s your friend or whatever, but he’s actually Head Auror. He’s been trying to change some of their policies for the year he’s been promoted, and while Fudge doesn’t like it mother and I are big fans of Aurors getting better training and dealing with their own paperwork. Honestly, you’d expect a protection force to be able to handle their own filing systems but that’s besides the point.” Blaise frowns briefly, “The woman next to them is Amelia Bones, she’s held a seat on the Wizengamont for five years, she’s been working with Kingsley to get Auror Training refined and is a hard woman to beat. She’s got connections with nearly everyone and it is  _ not wise  _ to cross her or anyone in her family. Why the hell do you think Slytherins are always nice to Susan?”

He turns Harry to another group, one that has Astoria and her twin in it. “Those are the Greengrasses. They’re a neutral family, meaning they didn’t pick anyone in the last war because it would mess with their stocks and trading and they do  _ not  _ let  _ anything  _ mess with their stocks and trading. They’re  _ everywhere.  _ More networks than the Malfoys, and that’s saying something. They deal in everything from sweets to Dark Arts and though they’re not nearly as dangerous as our families, it’s still not a good move to make them angry.”

Blaise whirls him around to a group clad in browns, purples, and reds. “Those are Ministry Employees. They’re all high ranking, so don’t piss them off unless you want to give Lucius a headache at work, but if they’re mean to you feel free. None of them are indispensable, and given that you know people above their positions it won’t be the end of the world if you offend them.”

“You already know Cedric and Cho,” Blaise waves to their general direction, “But you don’t know about their parents. Cedric’s dad, Amos, works in the Magical Creatures Department. He’s really too curious for his own good, but he has power. The power to grant use of Dragons to a school and walk away scott-free, if you catch my meaning. Cho’s parents are international traders, but they stick mainly to jewelry and fine china. I think their net worth is around my mum’s fourth husband.”

“Is everyone here powerful?” Harry asks. He’s just a little tired looking at them all, he couldn’t  _ imagine  _ having all this information casually stored in his brain.

Draco raises his hand, making a ‘so-so’ wave with it. “We’re more powerful. The Parkinsons alone could out-do anyone in the room, minus the Zabinis and the Malfoys of course. Blaise’s mum has her hands everywhere, though she’s mainly a lawyer.”

“Hey! It’s  _ because  _ she’s a lawyer that she knows everyone’s dirty little secrets.” Blaise tells Draco, then to Harry, “Mum is the last person you’d ever want to cross. Even I’m wary of angering her.”

“Still, no one has anything on the Malfoys.” Theo says, raising his eyebrow at Draco who raises a single eyebrow back. “Not denying it then?”

“What can I deny? Father has every Ministry Employee eating right out of his hand. He’s in the top ten seats of the Wizengamont, on his way to becoming the Head Governor, has business in over a hundred countries, and he’s a Malfoy. Being powerful is our thing.”

Millie snorts. Ron, however, seems to be cluing in on a lot.

“You’re forgetting you mum.” Blasie shakes his head. “Narcissa is basically the ruler of pureblood society. Everyone is afraid to say ‘no’ to her, and it’s because she heads many of those businesses and has her own unshakable influence. The one person my mother bows to is Narcissa.”

“And here I was thinking Narcissa couldn’t get any scarier.” Harry mumbles.

Draco pats his shoulder. “You’re completely safe. She likes you too much to damage you now, if anything she’ll just get nosey when you finally decide on a career.”

That doesn’t make him feel any better. With his luck and Narcissa’s ambition, he’ll end up in the Wizengamont and in  _ politics.  _ Could anything possibly be more dreadful?

Pansy’s dinner call cuts them off and Harry is so,  _ so,  _ thankful that she put them all at the same table. Sure, he’s separated from most of the Weasleys, but he still has Ron so he assumes it’s okay.

The original six of them share a table, leaving most of them scattered. The Weasleys are big enough to fit at their own table, but Pansy’s placed Molly and Arthur next to Belle, Katheriene, who’s next to Sirius and Remus. Their table has four empty seats for no apparent reason but Harry doesn’t really ponder over it, looking for where the hell the rest of his family is.

He finds Fred and George sitting at a table with Luna, Millie, Theo, Ginny, and Neville, which is good. He’d hate for them to be with someone they dislike, clearly the case with Cedric’s table that includes Cho, the Greengrass sisters, that weird Willie kid, and Susan Bones. Well, Cho, Susan, and Cedric look comfortable at least. Harry’s about to search for Bill and Fleur and then the Malfoys come into view. 

Narcissa is always stunning,  _ always.  _ Even in practice sessions she rarely has a hair out of place, Harry’s half convinced her sweat is made of gold. He really didn’t think she could get any more perfect and here she is, in a light green dress that falls off her like a waterfall. Looking every bit like the queen Harry knows she is.

Even Lucius is dressed up, somehow making dress pants and a blouse look regal. Hey, at least he knows Draco comes by his royal features honestly. 

What really surprises him is the woman between the two of them. She’s  _ tiny.  _ So small that Ginny is probably taller, and yet she gives off the same air of fierceness that Narcissa does. Her hair is long and black, braided down her back with bits of grey adorning the sleek main. She’s dressed in a mere green robe ordained by what looks to be golden butterflies that are actually moving.

Behind her is a young-looking older man, he’s either twenty or forty but Harry can’t really tell because he looks every bit as fit as Bill. He wears an open vest made of the same green material, golden butterflies dancing around the trim. His hair is just as long as the old woman’s, braided in a similar fashion.

For some reason the entire room has gone quite, as if waiting for the four descending the steps to speak. Draco has gone pale, so pale that Harry’s attention is actually divided until Narcissa smiles.

“Guests! We are thrilled to have you all visiting our home on this fine evening in celebration of the Summer Solstice. Please, partake!”

The silence breaks immediately. People are spurred to live either by the food magically appearing before them or the violinist who’s taken the stage. Harry’s about to ask what the hell a Summer Solstice is, but then Draco gets up and strides over to the biggest table in the room, his face paler than Harry can ever remember it being.

He looks to Pansy and Blaise because they  _ have  _ to know something, but they’re just as pale as his boyfriend.

Hermione, for all her knowledge and all the books she’s ever read, can’t begin to answer his questions.

  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Why the  _ fuck  _ didn’t anyone warn him?

Not a single ‘hey, Draco, by the way…’ not a note, not even a fucking gesture. Even his mother, his own pure and loving mother didn’t tell him. 

To be fair, she also seems a little shaken. Hell, Sirius looks like he’s about to fall right out of his seat, but none of that matters because Draco has to get this right.

He simply has no other choice.

Beady grey dark eyes size him up as he approaches, he reaches for her hand right as she extends it, bowing low and placing a gentle kiss right over her obsidian ring.

_ “Grandmother.” _

Druella Black does not smile at him, but her eyes soften. Just a fraction. Just enough to let him know that she’s not going to swallow him whole. She replies in French, just like he thought she would.

_ “It’s Druella, Draco….by Merlin you have grown since we last met, hm? By the end of the night I expect a dance, young man, but for now….have you met Alphard?” _

_ “Just once when he was very small.”  _ Alphard, thank Merlin, does grace him with a smile and a handshake. He leans in close and Draco is sure that this is it. The two people that scare his father more than Riddle-Mcfiddle are about to rip his world into shreds.  _ “We have much to discuss, I have every intention on learning how you and the Chosen One came to be. But we’ll chat later, we’ve had a long journey and the food is good.” _

Narcissa stands beside him, waiting for Alphard to stand so she can whisper;  _ “Don’t make a scene. I’ll explain later. They’re staying for the week, go enjoy your food and warn Harry, please. I’m sure Mum fancies a dance with him as well.” _

Fuck.

Harry, his lovely, perfect, clumsy as fuck, disaster of a boyfriend is going to dance with his grandmother. 

Draco suddenly feels faint.

Even so, he’s the perfect son, the perfect boyfriend, and the perfect Malfoy, so he swallows all of his anxiety and places a smile on his face. He nods and greets people on the way back to his seat, and once he’s finally sat down Harry reaches over and squeezes his hand. Somehow it makes his smile feel a little less forced.

Pansy makes two movements with her wand, the first to summon her tea closer and the second one leaves them in a small quiet bubble. All other noises dim in the background, just mummers in the breeze, which means she’s about to interrogate him.

“Who is that? I don’t recognize her, and I know  _ everyone,  _ Draco. Whoever she is, she was  _ not  _ on my guest list.”

Draco sighs. He was kinda expecting this, afterall, no one has seen Druella in  _ years.  _ Not to mention that Alphard is technically supposed to be dead.

“That woman is my grandmother, Druella Black.”

Pansy gasps.

“And the man with her is another relative, Alphard Black.”

“Alphard?!” Blaise stammers, still maintaining appearances, “I thought he died before the first war?”

“Yeah, well, surprise! He’s technically supposed to be dead, but he’s been living in France, actually. Mum says he and Druella have tea all the time, but to be honest I haven’t seen them since I was young.”

“Yes but why are they here?” Pansy asks.

Draco knows her question. Not  _ why  _ are they here. Why they’re at this party is obvious. Narcissa, Druella’s daughter, is throwing a party. They always invite her, even to birthday events. It’s nothing new, Narcissa has been doing it for ages, the only thing is that Druella never comes. Narcissa’s letters always go unanswered unless she visits, hell, the whole reason she was gone his first few years of Hogwarts was because she was with her mother, because when Narcissa calls, Druella can be silent but if Druella calls….even Draco would have to answer.

No, Pansy isn’t asking why the two are here, she’s asking why they’re here  _ now.  _

“I don’t know.” Draco tells her. “I have no clue, but I do know they both of them have requested a dance with me...and with Harry.”

Harry pales beside him. “I don’t speak French!”

The entire table turns to look at him because nowhere in that entire sentence was a mention of any other language. They’re all very confused until Harry’s anxiety gets the best of him and he rushes out a confusing explanation.

“Merlin, I barely understand what Fleur means when she calls me  _ mon cher,  _ how the hell am I supposed to hold a conversation with them? They are French, right? They look the part, and they  _ have  _ been living in France so they must speak it, but I don’t! Is there a spell for this? Like a translation or-”

The purebloods, even Ron, cut him off with rounds of laughter that does nothing to appease the poor boy.

“Harry,” Blaise chokes out, “She’s a Black. They speak more than one language you twit.”

Harry doesn’t look the least bit happier by this revelation.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  


His imminent dance with Draco’s grandmother is temporarily forgotten because Harry forgot that he’s going to get to dance with Draco.

And dancing with Draco is one of the most magical experiences he’s ever going to have.

It’s not like the night of the Yule Ball, they’re much more comfortable with each other now. Any secret longing is long gone, all their pining and yearning is very much in the open and very much catching the attention of cameras. It is not snowing, they’re surrounded by people, gossip is already starting about them, and yet…

It’s exactly like the night of the Yule Ball because it’s them. Harry and Draco, just two teenagers dancing in a little bubble that refuses to be popped by blinding lights of cameras or whispers of politicians. 

Looking into Draco smiling eyes Harry can’t help but remember that night and think that they were right. Not hiding this, not sneaking around in frozen gondolas or pretending to hate each other, it’s so much warmer. 

Not just because it’s summertime, not because fairy lights twinkle above their heads like stars, not because he’s full with good food but because he’s filled with so many emotions he can’t quite pin them all down. All he knows is the warmth bubbling up from inside his chest. A sort of yellow feeling, like everything bright and wonderful in the world is sitting right inside his ribcage. Lemon tarts, citrus flavors, the smell of mahogany on a summer’s afternoon.

The best part is that it doesn't hurt in the slightest.

There’s no more anxiety about being found out. They’re protected, they’re safe, they’re loved and it has never meant more to Harry than it does in this singular moment, dancing in the Malfoy’s ridiculous Ballroom with Draco.

Draco and his ridiculous long hair, artfully swept back in a low ponytail. Strands fall from it, framing his face, making his jawline a little softer, his cheekbones a little higher. He’s warm under Harry’s touch. Like the maroon suit is somehow lighting him on fire, he looks  _ good  _ in maroon. It makes him a little paler, but in a princely manner that should be annoying but it’s so,  _ so,  _ so very attractive. Regardless of what he’s wearing, Draco’s always able to snatch his breath away. Here and now, looking into blue twinkling eyes, swaying with him in this damn room, feeling muscles and something that tightens his chest in the best way possible, Harry can’t help but marvel at how  _ beautiful  _ his boyfriend truly is. 

“You’re blushing.” Draco tells him. “Are you hot? I can cast a cooling charm.”

“I’m not blushing because I’m hot, I’m blushing because  _ you’re  _ hot.”

And now they’re both blushing. But who cares? It’s summertime, Harry’s feeling a complicated bit of emotions, and he’s allowed to blush at how pretty Draco is for however long he wants to.

“You, Harry Potter, are quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Draco whispers to him. “Even with all your insufferable Potter-Headaches, even with all the stunts you pull, even when you’re driving me mad.”

“Even when I disappear for a week and come back in the middle of a breakdown?” Harry asks quietly. 

“Yes. Even then.”

He’s afraid to do anything but whisper. If he’s any louder than that their bubble might shatter and if Harry is certain about anything it’s that he never wants to lose these quiet moments. When he was younger he hated them. The quiet was deafening, it scared him, terrified him because if it was quiet it meant no one would come for him.

But now...now he longs for them. 

When Hermione and him are reading side by side, when he and Ron play Wizarding Games, when Pansy’s painting, when Blaise explains exactly what those weird plants in the Malfoy’s gardens are. Even with the adults in his life he longs. Those small moments in Lucius’s office, when he and Narcissa share tea after practice, when Remus wakes up to cook with him, when Sirius shares stories of his parents.

Moments like this...when he can exist with all the precious people he’s come to hold so close, they mean the world to him.

For that reason alone Harry whispers back, “You too, Draco. I-”

“Mind if we butt in?”

Just like that their little bubble is broken, shattered into a million little pieces. But it’s okay, because those little pieces shimmer in a way stars and fairy lights will never be able to.

Also because it’s just Pansy and Hermione, who have waltzed over to them. 

They part, Harry gets ready to grab Hermione and twirl her away, but Pansy catches his hand first.

“Woo me, Potter.” She smirks.

“If I step on your toes will you hex me?”

“Absolutely.”

Pansy, as it turns out, really  _ is  _ a wonderful dancer. She’s too good for Harry’s clumsy feet to actually step on her. Instead she takes the lead, making him look like he’s doing all the work, and dances him in a wide circle. They chat about small things, like people’s outfits, the fact that Luna did  _ not  _ wear the navy dress Pansy picked for her, Blaise and Theo’s weird relationship.

“He’s acting like Draco did about you fourth year! It’s ridiculous,” Pansy tells him, “They should just snog already and get over it.”

“Will they? I know Theo’s out, but I also know Blaise fancies girls…”

“He fancies both, you know. For a while in first year he had this awful crush on Flint.”

“Flint?!”

“I  _ know.  _ He can do much better, like Theo, for example.”

Harry laughs, accidentally bumping into Millie who requests a dance even though she’s mid-dance with Ron. 

Ron takes one look at Pansy and pales, swearing up and down that he swears not to step on her feet but Pansy actually takes mercy on him and demands he lead her to the drink table. Crisis avoided, or so he thinks, because while one issue is solved, Millie kindly fills him in on  _ why  _ his boyfriend has been dancing with Hermione for the past thirty minutes.

“Merlin, what I’d give to have a brain like her...like both of them actually. Hermione was completely right, the press is loving this whole ‘pureblood and muggle’ thing. And Draco’s never been one to pass up an opportunity. If the headlines aren’t about you two, they’ll definitely be about him being so close with a muggleborn.”

Harry frowns, ready to yell at every last reporter, but then remembers that they threw this part as a ‘PR stunt’ anyways and lets it go. He doesn’t have much of a chance for anger, to be honest, because as soon as Millie finishes her sentence that tiny lady, Draco’s fucking grandmother, is coming up to them. 

Millie back off instantly, bowing low to the woman before promptly running off like the traitor that she is. Which leaves Harry, staring with wide eyes at this tiny little woman looking at him with a raised eyebrow. 

He’s a little confused, but this only amuses the woman. She holds out her hand and Harry kisses it because that’s the thing you do with pureblood women when you first meet them. Druella does not smile at him, but she does nod her approval and Harry takes this as a sign for their dance to commence. 

It’s awkward as hell. 

They don’t say anything because if Harry talks he might step on her feet. He’s terrified to step on her feet. He can see it now, one accidentally misstep and he’s dead before Riddle can blink twice. So, instead of chatting, or relaxing even an inch, Harry keeps his mouth clamped shut. 

“You are very focused, child.”

Harry nearly does it. His foot comes so close to her dainty heels that he actually gasps, and then, as though it’s nothing, Druella claps his hand firmly and takes the lead. 

“For a Potter you are not very agile.”

“Sorry!” Harry laughs. Oh fuck. Is he allowed to laugh? Is that a thing he can do? Draco smiled in front of her so he assumed she was chill, but what if she’s actually an evil-

“You could not have known. Your parents died far too young to teach you the finer ways of life, and while I suspect Narcissa has been easing you into them, I’m certain you are still….new to our ways of life.”

Godric, she’s blunt. A lot like Narcissa in that way, all open and honest unless she’s forced to play dirty. Harry supposes it makes sense. Why waste energy trying to cheat people when you can just shock them to get what you want?

“Am I wrong?”

“No ma’am!” Harry rushes out. “Not at all, actually. I’m, um, a rather horrid dancer, actually. The only reason I haven’t stumbled over my own two feet is because of the people I’ve danced with tonight. I apologize in advance if I, um…”

“You won’t be stepping on my toes because I won’t allow it.”

Well, that solves one of his issues.

The conversation lulls into another awkward silence, though Druella keeps her grip strong and her lead in the dance even stronger. After a while Harry really can’t take the silence anymore, so he does what he does best. Opens his big mouth and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“You’re Narcissa’s mum, right? I was told about you, but I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure before tonight.”

“Narcissa’s mum...not Draco’s grandmother..” The corners of her lips quirk up, “Interesting. Not wrong, though. Yes, I am Narcissa’s mother. I prefer to keep my peace in France, but there’s been quite a lot of gossip as of late.”

“Gossip, ma’am?”

“Yes.” Druella sizes him up for a brief second, making Harry feel every bit like a cockroach under a microscope. “It began last year when your name was thrown in the Goblet. A horrid competition, really, I was one of the few always glad to have it gone. And to have an under aged child participate is not only highly illegal, but enough to grab the attention of an old woman such as myself. I personally routed for Miss Delacour, no hard feelings, I assume?”

“Of course not. Fleur is amazing, to be honest I placed my bet on her or Cedric.”

“You would place money on a Veela, or another classmate, winning? Over yourself?”

Harry ducks his head in a nod, “Yes ma’am. I was never really in it to win. It was rather forced on me, really. If I had my way I wouldn’t have participated in the first place.”

Druella’s eyes light up with something Harry can’t place. It makes him very,  _ very  _ uncomfortable, in ways Narcissa never quite manages, and  _ that  _ is the very reason he’s still very scared of the woman twirling him around.

“I see. Well, the rest of us did not know, the papers never tell the whole truth. I thought it was the last I’d see of you, and then the tabloids rushed out rather salacious rumors of you and my grandson. I’m sure you don’t understand, but my curiosity was piqued.”

“Would you care to explain?”

Druella graces him with a smile. It’s hidden, like one of Lucius’s proud smiles that he can’t fully display in meetings. “No. No I do not. Do you have any commentary for me?”

Yes, actually. He has a  _ lot  _ of things he’d like to ask. A lot of questions Narcissa would kill him for, if Draco didn’t end him first.

Instead of thinking out something to say, something smart and witty to impress this terrifying old woman, Harry opens his mouth and lets it run wild.

“Well, Draco seems properly terrified of you, and I understand why, but um. You make it seem like you’ve only come to peek at the famous ‘Harry Potter’ and well, it’s rather rude. Family means a lot to them, Narcissa and Draco, I mean. Sirius too, though he’d never admit it. My point is, ma’am, that you should’ve come to see them. I know it’s been ages, that there’s a lot of possible bad blood, especially between you and Lucius, but they’re good people. The best, actually. They’re practically my family now, and I understand that it may be difficult, but I guess I’m telling you that you should be proud of all of them.”

Harry gulps at the look on her face, but he’s already started and there’s no stopping now. 

“You should be proud enough that you don’t hide yourself away in France anymore. Draco...he’s never really had much family other than his mum and dad, and to be quite frank with you, he deserves more. So do Narcissa and Sirius. I know what it feels like to be abandoned, and I’ll stick to their sides until the very end, but I’m afraid it would mean much more if you did that too.”

Fuck.

There are lines that people aren’t supposed to cross, and Harry just danced over them butt-naked and screaming. Still, he won’t apologize. Seeing fear in Draco’s eyes because of a relative is  _ wrong  _ and Harry won’t allow it. He will not see his family pushed around like Petunia did to him. He simply will not let that happen, consequences be damned. Even if Druella strikes him with lightning in the next two seconds he won’t apologize. Not when he’s standing up for his family.

Druella does not summon lightning to smite him. Her face goes carefully blank, like a statue in the gardens. She does not say another word until they’re by the drink tables.

“Harry, correct? I must say this has been an enlightening conversation. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“Of course, Miss Black.”

Harry pulls away, but Druella does not move. She simply stares at him with a gaze that makes him want to fidget, and then she smiles. A real smile. Looking so much like Narcissa that it briefly leaves Harry stunned to the spot.

“Please, call me Druella.”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Draco’s only freaking out a little bit. 

Harry and Druella are dancing, talking quietly, far  _ too  _ quietly. He should be able to hear them, he’s literally straining his ears as hard as he can, along with the reporters and a number of nosey guests, and he still can’t hear a damn thing.

_ “Stop eavesdropping. It’s rude.” _

He turns his head back to his dance partner, Alphard, and frowns. Alphard, who is well over eighty, who looks like he’s twenty, and who is so much like Sirius it’s a little alarming. Draco didn’t expect to hit it off so easily with the man, but here they are, dancing with casual jokes while Draco tries his best to figure out what the hell Harry is doing.

_ “You can’t seriously expect me to be calm about this. She terrifies you just as much as she scares me.” _

Alphard shrugs.  _ “She is scary, I’ll give you that, but she’s just curious. She’ll kill me for telling you this but she always makes Sissy send her yearly photos of you. I think she bullied me here to find out if that Harry Potter is all he’s cracked up to be, though she never really cared until she saw you two on the papers- and that reminds me!” _ His relative fixes him with an outraged stare.  _ “Kissing?! On the front of the Daily Prophet?! I understand you’re young, but there’s still no reason to be so crass and scandalous!” _

Draco would be worried, but Alphard is apparently horrible at keeping his humor hidden. It’s written all over his poorly concealed smile. 

_ “It’s only a kiss.” _

_ “Only a kiss…”  _ Alphard laughs, all loud and crass and not at all like a well groomed pureblood is supposed to behave. Draco likes him more by the second.  _ “You’re lucky your mother isn’t a fan of gossip.” _

_ “She is if it benefits us, and Harry makes me happy, which makes her happy, so it’s a benefit. Though she is rather fond of him…” _

_ “So he’s already on good terms with your parents then?” _

Draco turns bright red. 

Alphard, the bastard, laughs right in his face.

_ “Now, now, Draco, don’t get embarrassed. You’re acting like Sirius.” _

Merlin, that was a disaster. His poor cousin is still sitting at a table, looking like he’s had his entire world turned upside down. Sirius wore that same expression all throughout his dance with Druella, his dance with Alphard, and even his dance with Remus that ended with him sitting at the table still bewildered by the whole event. 

_ “You two are bad for our collective health.” _

_ “Don’t let Druella hear you say that.” _

At least Alphard gives him some sort of warning. Better than anyone else, though it doesn’t do much for the bout of nerves determined to curse his chest as he accepts his grandmother’s hand. Nerves aside, he is a  _ Malfoy,  _ he is a  _ Black,  _ and neither lines are cowards, so Draco steels himself and begins to dance.

Druella wastes no time, just like Narcissa.

_ “Draco, darling, might I say you are a much better dancer than your partner.” _

_ “Did he step on your feet?” _

_ “Nearly, but what he lacks in grace I suppose he makes up in kindness. He’s quite the charmer, and very invested in the health of the family.” _

Draco fights the urge to roll his eyes because yeah, that sounds like Harry Savior-Complex Potter. 

_ “Alphard seems to have loosened you up,”  _ Druella comments,  _ “You’re not nearly as frightened as I expected you to be.” _

_ “Fear is not becoming of my family. Doesn’t go well with our complexion, you understand.” _

Druella chuckles, low and soft. She doesn’t tell Draco why she’s here, why she danced with Harry before him, what the hell she’s said to anyone that’s left them shell shocked and woozy. Instead she acts like a completely normal grandmother, asking about Hogwarts, wanting to hear his opinion on school traditions, if he’s actually been training his Veela sides like he should be. 

_ “Druella…”  _ Draco says after her rant on Fudge’s incompetence. Sure, it’s amusing that their minister is so awful that foreigners have an opinion, but he’s tired of beating around the bush.  _ “While I’m grateful for your presence, why now? What is of such importance that you would risk your safety?” _

Druella gives him a calculated look, the first time she’s been anything but warm and open during their dance.  _ “Your mother asked me the same thing...to tell you the truth, I came because I was concerned.” _

_ “Concerned?” _

_ “Yes. It’s not every day my grandson announces his relationship with the boy who defeated a terrorist, and it’s not every day that one learns their family is training to defeat said terrorist.” _

Draco pales.  _ “You know? How do you-” _

_ “I have my sources, dear. A common friend who has the same interests.” _

_ “And those interests are?”  _ Draco asks warily. 

_ “You’ll see soon enough. We're around far too many powerful people who are far too nosey for their own good. Did you know that anyone who listens in right now will hear nothing but my fruit cake recipe?” _

Draco has no idea what to make of that. To be fair, he has no idea what to make of anything at the moment. By all standards, he should be a lot more scared than he is right now, but something about the situation just isn’t...scary.

Come on, for Merlin’s sake, he’s faced way worse than his family. And now that he’s gotten over his previous shock at seeing her, he’s come to find that Druella is an absolute delight. What is there to be afraid of? That she might disapprove of Harry? She’s already called him a ‘wondrous klutz’ so really, the worst that could happen is out of the way.

Or that’s what he thinks until he hears a loud noise over by the drink table….right where Harry is. 

_ “Oh look, your boyfriend is causing a scene.” _

  
  


\----------

  
  


This Candice woman is going to get punched in the face.

And Harry is going to be the one to do it.

He didn’t like her back at the Order Meeting because she was mean to Narcissa. No, at the time she was just being sassy, but right now she’s being mean and there’s no way around it.

“I mean, come on, you’re Harry Potter, you shouldn’t even be here.” She whispers to him, “It’s a disgrace to your good name, being associated with people like the Malfoys.”

Harry takes a long sip of his drink, trying to find  _ anyone  _ in the crowd that he can signal to save him. Pansy’s with Blaise, Theo and Neville are nowhere to be seen. The twins don’t recognize his call for help, he has no idea where Hermione and Ron are but he’d take anyone, literally, he’ll take Astoria’s political information at this point. Anything to get out of this conversation.

Candice pats him on the shoulder. “It’s okay that you don’t want to say anything, if you want you can blink twice and I’ll take you away from here. You’re clearly imperioed. No one alive actually likes that Narcissa bitch, she’s just as much of a mutt as the other creature is...Fleur, was it? I get that Veelas can be pretty, dear, but they’re  _ creatures.  _ That's like sleeping with your owl, and you wouldn’t do that, would you? Though I suppose with Remus and Sirius as your guardians you probably have no real morals, huh?”

Harry bits down on his tongue so hard it draws blood. 

His hand  _ aches  _ to hit her. Just one hard punch to her jaw would do the trick, he’s sure, but it isn’t the Malfoy way to handle things, and Harry is not going to make a scene at their party. He respects them too much for that, he  _ cares  _ about them too much to embarrass them, and if Draco’s on his best behavior because of Druella, then Harry can be on his best behavior too.

“Seriously,” Candice turns her ugly grin his way, “I can always get you out of here…”

She offers him a hand and Harry has to physically fight himself so he doesn’t spit on her.

“No. I don’t go places with people who insult my friends.”

He turns his head back to the crowd, spots Blaise, and starts walking. Candice’s hand grips his arm before he can get far.

“That’s something only a person under the Imperius would say!”

“No,” Harry grunts, “It’s something a sane human being would say to the asshole who’s been shit-talking his friends for the past thirty minutes.”

“That is no way to talk to adults!”

“Lucky for us you’re clearly not an adult.”

“Excuse me?!” Candice reels back, her grip tightening on Harry’s arm until it hurts. He can smell the wine on her breath, see the way her pupils are dilated slightly. Her nails dig into him and he doesn’t want to hurt her but if she doesn't put her claws away he is going to put his shields up and ruin her hand. The only reason she’s been given a pass is because she’s an Order Member, but Sirius’s anger aside, if they lose one skinny brown haired bitch Harry is sure they’ll be completely fine. 

“You heard me. You’re acting like a teenager upset about someone prettier than them. The truth is that Narcissa Malfoy is more of a woman than you’ll ever be. You talk shit about Fleur but haven’t been through half the shit she’s done at eighteen. You crossed a line when you shit-talked my friend, and I nearly killed you for talking shit about my family. I don't’ care how important you think you are,  _ back off  _ or you’ll regret it.”

Candice scoffs at him. “You’re  _ Harry Potter.  _ You try to hurt someone and you’ll end up just as dead as your idiotic parents.”

_ “You bitch-” _

His hand is swinging, it’s going to knock her clean the fuck out and it’s going to feel  _ so  _ fucking good. 

It would’ve felt so fucking good.

But Blaise, ever the realest, stops his fist mid swing, bringing it back down and stepping to Harry’s side so none of the guests around them suspect a thing.

“Let me hit her.”

“No, Harry.” Blaise says, then “Mrs. Flea, I do believe you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

Candice sputters at him. “You were going to punch me.”

_ “Mrs. Flea-” _

Candice raises her wand, Harry's shields go up without thinking, expanding to cover Blaise right as a spell hits. It bounces easily off Harry’s shields, shoving Candice into the punch bar.

Every Godric forsaken guest at this stupid fucking party turns and looks.

Narcissa and Lucius are by his side in an instant, followed by Draco, Druella, Sirius and Remus.

“My, my, my. What do we have here?” Narcissa asks.

Lucius looks at Candice with thinly veiled disgust, pulling Harry and Blaise slightly behind them. Draco has Harry facing him before Harry can even blink. He checks vitals, face, then pauses on Harry’s arms, where he rolled up his sleeves, where the marks of Candice’s nails are.

“Did she do this to you?” Draco asks.

Harry just mutters, “I’m sorry.”

And  _ oh,  _ the Malfoys and Blacks are  _ not  _ having that. Belle in particular seems to be trying to murder Candice with a single look, which is fair considering the idiot just tried to hurt _Blaise Zabini_ and _Harry Potter._

“Candice, you fucking coward…” Sirius growls, “Hexing children when no one’s looking? I ought to have your head.”

“Now, Sirius...we have to share with Narcissa.”

Harry knows, he knows that his godfathers are scary but this is something else entirely. He’s not sure which one is worse, the way Sirius’s magic seems to beg for murder or the dark hue of Narcissa’s eyes.

Sirius steps in front of him, hiding Harry and Draco behind a rather large shadow. “Do we? I’ve been wanting a go at her.”

Narcissa places a single dainty hand on his shoulder. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Candice scowls. She doesn’t look very threatening, covered in red wine and sparkling soda, makeup running down her cheeks, wand hanging loosely in her hand. “Go to hell, the whole lot of you!” 

She spits at the Malfoys’ feet.

The Weasleys take a step forward, every single Black seems to be out for murder, Harry quickly hides Draco’s hands so no one will notices that his finger tips are quite literally  _ burning  _ with rage. Pansy and Blaise have never looked so scary, it’s nothing compared to their parents, or Fleur….

Narcissa, however, smiles widely. “Very well. Lucius, love?”

“I thought you’d never ask…”

Candice rushes to her feet, “No-no wait-!”

“As you have offended my family, harmed our young, and insured the very Malfoy Name…” Lucius glares at Candice, eyes full of cold furry, completely different from the fire that blaises under Draco and Narcissa’s gaze. Instead of swallowing a person whole, Lucius’s glare freezes their very soul. No one can move under that gaze, no one stands a chance under that sneer. “I revoke your safety on these grounds.”

_ “No-! Please, I didn’t mean to-” _

In the end, no one knows what Candice was going to say. If she really meant her apology, or if she was faking it.

Her words simply could not be made out, as the Malfoy Manor came alive, magic coursing through the gardens that were once peaceful, turning vines against the rude brunette in question. Harry watches the vines swallow her up, watches her freeze in place, watches flowers carry her back to the main hall. He’s not sure how he knows, but he has a distinct feeling that she’s wandering along the tree line, trying to find her way back inside.

She won’t. 

The Manor won’t let her. She’ll spend hours, maybe well into the cold summer night, maybe a few days trying to find it. She’ll go a little hungry, possibly a little insane, but no matter what she will not return.

Harry finds he likes that.

He likes it a lot. 

\----------

(Christmas Present to you all is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324476))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermoine: (exists)  
> Ron, a himbo, and Pans, a pansexual: fuck  
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Millie: why do you want to make a mess?  
> Harry, who's never been on a roller-coaster but has heard about it from Dudley enough to know it would make him shit his pants: for fun?  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Harry, just trying to enjoy the Gala:  
> Blaise: i will now give you a brief history because you are stupid and i will not allow you to be taken advantage of  
> Harry: :(  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Draco: this is literally just a dance, go have fun  
> Hermione: (uses the Gala as a way to make all the powerful officals know her name)  
> Draco: i mean....if that's what you call 'fun'  
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Candice: (shit-talking, being a generic asshole)  
> Harry: this is it, i am finally going to become a murder


	10. Into the Snake Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “.....it helps her grow edible arsenic.”
> 
> “Fantastic! What’s arsenic?”

“She said  _ what  _ about me and Remus?”

So, Harry’s lesson for the day is that Narcissa really doesn’t care when people shit talk her, but she does care about people speaking poorly of her family. That and that Sirius is  _ not  _ the person to mess with. Like  _ ever.  _

“You should’ve hexed her.” Druella tells him.

“But we’re proud that you didn’t!” Molly glares back.

Harry looks between the group of adults he’s been forced to sit with. 

As soon as the ball ended they’d cornered him, sat him down, and started questioning him. They didn’t even allow his friends to come with him! It’s pointless to try and keep them out of it, Harry’s positive they’re all outside the door, if Fred and George haven’t already bugged the Manor with those weird little ears. 

“Harry,” Remus begins, sitting down so he can put both of his hands on Harry’s knees in a very father-like motion. “While I’m proud of you for your self restraint, if anyone ever says anything like that again, you have my full permission to hit them, magically or not.”

The whole room is stunned into silence, and then Druella laughs. “Oh,  _ Sirius!  _ You didn’t tell me he was funny!”

“Remus!” Molly chides, “You can’t  _ condone violence!” _

“And why not?”

“Because it’s-it’s not  _ right!” _

“Well, it’s not like Harry actually hit the bitch- and why didn’t you? Don’t tell me you listen to all that just for Blaise to hold you back?”

Sirius’s question leads every pair of eyes in the room to look at him, even Lucius who’s been reading a book for the entire argument. 

“I did want to….” Harry says, scratching the back of his neck. “Like  _ really  _ wanted to. Quite frankly, I’ve never wanted to hit someone so badly in my life-”

_ “Harry!” _

“But,” Harry continues before Molly can lash into him, “I, um...I didn’t do it because it seemed like the wrong way to handle it.”

“The wrong way?” Lucius echoes.

Godric, Harry can already feel his cheeks burning. It’s bad enough that all four of his parental figures are here, add Narcissa and Lucius who are becoming more and more like an overprotective aunt and uncle, Belle who’s kinda like a weird cousin, Katherine who Harry honestly thinks to be his strict as shit grandmother….Harry really can’t handle the embarrassment of what he’s about to say.

To make it that much worse, Druella and that Alphard man are here, looking every bit like monsters in human form that take amusement in chaos. He vaguely remembers some Greek Mythology lesson from primary school, but quickly shrugs it off because now is  _ so  _ not the time.

“Well, I mean….it was at a Malfoy Party...and um, well, Draco usually doesn’t air his dirty laundry in public, and I know Narcissa is more a fan of shady payback, so I dunno...it seemed disrespectful? Plus, all of Lucius’s coworkers were there and I didn’t want to cause a scene so…”

Sirius takes a step forward. Harry’s body tenses out of habit because whenever Vernon stepped forward like that it meant a hard slap in the face. But Sirius is not Vernon. Sirius is kind and wonderful and a bit of a mess but he’s Harry’s godfather. 

Harry’s godfather who hugs instead of hits him.

“Godric above you are too  _ kind  _ sometimes, Poppet!”

Harry looks above his godfather’s shoulder to see the other adults, even Druella, smiling at him.

“Um, just to clarify, I’m not in trouble?”

“No,” Lucius rises from his chair, wrapping his arm around his wife and smiling softly at Harry, “You...you are quite the young man, Harry.”

“I still feel like it’s a bad idea for you to ignore the urge for violence in order to pursue ‘payback’, but it is sweet that you took the Malfoys into consideration.” Arthur tells him.

Sirius pats his head, “This being said, if you ever hear anyone speaking negatively of us, you still have our full permission-”

_ “Sirius!” _

“Enough.”

Narcissa quietly walks over to the couch that he’s still sitting on. Harry stands because it feels like the right thing to do and is pleasantly surprised when Narcissa cups his cheek. “It’s been a long night. Go say goodbye to my nosey son and your friends, dear.”

Harry nods. He assumes that’s his cue to go, but Narcissa surprises him even further by pulling him in for a hug and whispering ‘je vous remercie’ into his ear.

He walks out of the main living room and into the parlor feeling a bit like he’s just walked out of a strange dream.

Not that there’s time to dwell on that because his friends are all waiting for him. Ron reaches him first, demanding to know what happened, so Harry launches into his second explanation of the night. 

“I should’ve let you hit her.” Blaise drawls as soon as he’s done. “Should’ve let you give her ugly mug a crooked jaw as well.” 

Draco shrugs it off, easily wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist. “Don’t worry, mum might act like she doesn’t care about gossip, but I bet you ten gallons that Candice is fired by tomorrow.”

“She’ll lose her job over this?” Hermione asks.

“Yes? She not only insulted us, but our family and peers too. Plus, she hurt Harry.”

“And you’re sure she’ll be fired?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

_ “Hermione-” _

Harry lets Ron’s chastising distract the group while he nudges Draco’s side. “What does je vous remercie mean?”

“It means ‘thank you’. Why?”

“No reason.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


The next day Harry finally,  _ finally  _ gets to make mince pies with the Weasleys. Molly and Ginny make the meat, the twins roll the dough, and Ron and Harry are in the business of putting pies in the oven and making sure they don’t burn.

Something Ron can’t do if he’s writing, and since when does Ron willingly write?

“Mate...what are you doing?” 

Ron hums back at him. Apparently Harry is not worthy of real words in the face of Ron’s great paper.

“He’s writing to his  _ girlfriend!”  _ Fred whispers.

“I am not!”

“So you can use words.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Tell me, Ronnikins,” George muses, making evil eye contact with his evil twins, “Are you better on paper than you are in person?”

Ginny snorts.

Mrs. Weasley rolls her eyes. “Leave your brother alone, boys. I think it’s wonderful that he and Mrs. Brown have stuck up a friendship.”

Mrs. Brown?

As in, as in like-

“And it’s  _ just  _ a friendship!” Ron insists. His red cheeks suggest otherwise. “Lav and I are  _ just  _ friends, so  _ please,  _ don’t bring this to school.”

Lavender Brown. Ron is talking to Lavender Brown. And it is completely fine, it’s not like Harry’s been routing for him and Hermione since first year. It’s not like Harry may or may not be betting with Draco on Hermione’s further partner, but it’s  _ Ron!  _

Yes, Harry understands that Hermione and Pansy would be the power couple to take over the world, but Draco fails to understand what disasters their breakup would bring. At least with Ron there’s a less likely chance of murder, disfiguration, or an increase in crime. Plus, whenever Ron and Hermione look at each other there’s always this soft disgusting glow and Harry has been  _ waiting for so long.  _

And Ron is talking to Lavender Brown.

The same Lavender who irritates Hermione to no end.

This is  _ so  _ not going to go over well.

“Aren’t you excited for ‘Mione to find out?” Ginny whispers to him.

“We’ll have to warn the others.”

“Luna says it’ll be fine.”

“Hey!” Ron glares at them. “Are you two plotting something!”

“Are you?” George asks.

“Because if so, we want in.” Fred finishes.

“There will be no plotting until these pies are done! Oh-Ronald! The pies! They’ll burn-”

“Oh shit!”

_ “Ronald Weasley!” _

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Draco has long lost the concept of a ‘normal’ breakfast. 

When he was younger it was just him, his mum, and his dad.

But now there’s no telling who’s going to be with them in the morning. People seem to randomly come and go from the Manor, and while it’s nice to constantly have people he cares about around, it’s also skewed his perception of what a ‘normal’ breakfast should look like.

Usually there’s eggs and toast, yogurt, fruits and potatoes, coffee, water, and tea. When Belle comes the elves give her those scones she likes so much, and they have a tendency to spoil Blaise and Pansy as much as they spoil the Black family (Sirius and Remus really need to get married already, and he knows Harry’s last name is Potter, but he’s still included).

Today the elves have gone above and beyond.

There are mounds of food to choose from, and it makes Draco worry if he’s missed something. Is today someone’s birthday? The nearest one is Harry’s, and that isn’t for another week so what the hell is happening here?

Druella.

Druella is what the hell is happening.

“Good Morning, Grandmother.” Draco nods to her, then sees Alphard over a stack of pancakes. “Good Morning, Alphard.”

“Draco, darling, I won’t tell you again to call me Druella, this is your last warning.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The woman isn’t doing anything to suggest that she’ll threaten Draco. As a matter of fact, she’s just putting jam on a scone. It’s an innocent little act, with a spoon and strawberry jam, and Draco can still vividly see her gouging his eyes out. He quickly sits next to his mother and grabs his copy of the  _ Daily Prophet.  _

Lucius is already half way done with his, Draco better catch up.

On the front page is the big headline for the day. Revolving around their Gala, as suspected. 

_ Malfoy Gala: A Show Stopper of Peace! Minister Employee Candice Flea Fired for Unseemly Acts on pg 12. _

What bullshit.

There are several flattering pictures to make up for Rita Seeker’s ugly article that manages to make compliments sound like insults. Pictures of him and Harry dancing together, Hermione chatting with Lucius and his co-workers, Molly, Sirius, and Narcissa smiling and laughing together. Never her real laugh of course, Narcissa does not drop her guard around reporters. One of his favorites, aside from the ones that have Harry in them, is the picture of Blaise and Theo waltzing. Theo’s clearly trying to bite back a laugh and Blaise isn’t doing too well either. Even in the black and white Draco can see fondness in their eyes and  _ oh  _ he and Pansy are  _ so  _ going to do something about that.

“Draco. When you’re done with your breakfast could you show me the new potions lab your mother put in for you? Lucius tells me you’re quite the healer.”

Draco snaps his head up at Druella’s voice, already nodding. “Yes! It would be an honor.”

“An honor to show me or an honor to be a healer?”

“Both. I’m overly fond of potions, my godfather showed me the art and I’m rather in love with brewing...but healing is extremely interesting.”

“How so?”

Draco ignores his mother’s sigh, and his father’s poorly-hidden eye roll. He doesn’t care if they’re tired of hearing him gush about medical theories. Druella  _ asked  _ and what she says triumphs what they say so Draco is going to launch into a forty-five minute lecture on Bedfoot’s theory on Magical Rejuvenation because he is admittedly obsessed with it.

The theory is simple as far as general concepts go; if one is hurt they need to be healed. 

What makes it interesting is the many ways that someone  _ can  _ be healed, from potions to rehabilitation, spells to psychoanalytic work, the way poor mind structure, bad habits, and trauma can affect the body as well as magic. When morals, factions, and beliefs get thrown into the mix a debate begins.

A debate he found in the book Poppy got him for his birthday.

On page 345, nearly towards the end of the book, is a ten page article discussing the current work of one Antionio Bedfoot, an Italian Wizard in the business of treating both Dark and Light wizards. His hospital is  _ infamous.  _ Housing ten of each, forcing them into magically suppressed discussion groups. He’s responsible for several reformation groups in Italy, and that’s besides the fact that his methods usually have patients healed and of sound minds within three years.

“-the most interesting part is that Bedfoot actually began as a Dark Wizard in Romania,” Draco tells his grandmother, “He was studying to move to Britain to become one of Riddle’s healers, but-”

“Riddle? Who is Riddle?”

Lucius groans. He hides it with a cough when Druella raises an eyebrow at him.

Narcissa gives a huff of amusement. “Riddle is Tom Riddle, the name of the Dark Lord. Harry insists on calling him that instead of his title.”

“Rather rude isn’t it?” Alphard laughs. “He’ll get hurt if he’s not careful. Even in France people are afraid to whisper that monster’s name.”

“Why?” Draco asks. “He might be scary and powerful, but so are Dumbledore and Grindelwald, and we call them by their names. Harry...he might be a bit daft sometimes, but he’s right about this. What should we call a man but his name? Riddle is just a man. A psychopath of a man but still, he’s human. Just another wizard with a few screws lost. By calling him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named we’re giving into a useless fear tactic, and when we call him the Dark Lord we’re praising someone who is undeserving of praise. He is a crazy, albeit powerful,  _ man  _ and I refuse to treat him like anything else.”

Druella studies him for a second before saying, “That Harry Potter has quite the hold on you.”

“It goes both ways.” Draco says.

The group of them are spared the rest of his lecture on Bedfoot by owls swooping in. Theo has a couple letters so Draco has Winky give him the pile so he can show Druella his potions lab that is  _ cool  _ not excessive, no matter what the Weasleys say.

Hermione though his collection was  _ wonderful.  _

The room is rather big, two rooms collapsed into one. His cauldron sits right in the middle, a desk over by his drying lavender for when he wants to try something new, a few bookcases with potion recipes for the off chance he forgets, a little archway into the storage room where he keeps all of his ingredients. He has everything he needs down here for whatever potion he could dream of, but his favorite is the left side of the room. It has the longest wall, shelves built in, complete with ladder for those he can’t reach even though he could magic himself up or have Winky get it.

On every shelf is a potion bottle, facing with the title below them. Every potion has a place, and every place has a potion. It’s a little system he’s been experimenting with even though he quite loves how it looks.

“Did you brew all of these yourself?” Druella asks.

“Not all of them, though that is all of them.”

“Explain.”

Draco walks over to his potion wall so he can stand next to her. “Well, you’re looking at every potion in the Malfoy Manor. If I were to grab this bottle of Pepper-Up and drain it, another would fill it’s place unless we’re out, in which case the name tag will glow so I know to make more.”

“Why not buy them?”

“Because,” Draco shrugs, “I like brewing. Plus, you never know what ingredients are in a potion unless you brew it yourself, and it’s cheaper. Now we can open our family budget up in other areas.”

“Areas like...getting you a potion’s lab?” Druella raises an eyebrow, knowing smile tainting her lips.

“Exactly.”

Druella eventually lets him go so Draco grabs a snack and makes his way up to Theo’s room.

Theo who is not awake yet.

“You’ve got to be kidding me….” Draco looks down at the sleeping boy. It’s  _ one in the afternoon  _ for Merlin’s sake! Yes, Theo is still getting over the trauma of what happened to him, so extra sleep is necessary, but this is a little bit much.

“Shall I open the blinds, sir?” Winky asks. She crosses her arms, staring at Theo like  _ she  _ couldn’t imagine sleeping so late.

Draco stares unnecessarily hard at his friend. He thinks back to all those nights when Lucius was cursed. All those time he’d shoved potions down his throat and told himself he could be tired when he got to Hogwarts. All those times when he was finally back in the castle and still couldn’t sleep.

He wonders if Theo is just as tired.

“No. We’ll leave him be.”

Winky follows him as he quietly shuts the door. Then he turns to his room, instructs her to bring snacks and a good mood because today is the day he’s finally going to clean out his fucking closet.

Harry shows up at two thirty, right as Draco’s trying to figure out when the hell he got so many jumpers.

“Hello?” He hears his boyfriend call.

Draco quickly drops the purple object in his hands, leaps over several small piles in his closet, and nearly trips right at the entrance. “Harry!”

“Are you okay? What’s…” Harry looks over the mass of clothing covering his room. Draco winces slightly when he sees Snoot, the giant white stuffed snake Harry got him for his birthday, is wearing a pair of Draco’s favorite underwear on his head.

Winky glares at Draco, a sock hanging off one of her ears. “Master Draco be  _ cleaning  _ sir.”

“This is you cleaning?”

“No!” Draco glares right back at his elf. “I’m not cleaning-I’m getting rid of stuff.”

“You’re  _ what?!” _

Draco turns his glare on his boyfriend. “I’m many things, but never a hoarder, and mum  _ insists  _ on getting me more clothing than I can possibly wear, so  _ yes.  _ I am getting rid of things.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry laughs. “But this is still a mess.”

“It is not!”

A sneeze distracts them both, and then Draco watches in horror as LuLu digs her way out from underneath a pile of shirts on his bed. She blinks at him, as though she’s calling him a big fat liar, and Draco is forced to admit that  _ yeah.  _ Maybe it is a bit messy.

Harry tries to stifle a laugh and ends up snorting instead. Draco hits him lightly on the arm until he’s holding up both of his tan hands in mock surrender.

“I’m sorry! You’re right! It’s not funny!” Harry grabs the hand Draco is using to hit him and pulls the taller in for a hug. “Would you like me to help you sort?”

Draco plops his head miserably on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Yes please.”

It takes a few hours to get the piles in his room under control. There’s things he plans on keeping, a pile for things that are unseemly to donate like underwear and socks, a pile he hasn’t decided on, and a growing pile that he is most definitely getting rid of that Harry calls the ‘donation pile’. In the midst of it all Harry’s somehow gotten cold, and Draco walks out, planning on putting his jumper from Molly on the ‘keep’ pile and instead finds himself frozen to the spot because Harry is in one of his jumpers. 

It’s a white hoodie, much too big for his boyfriend who’s on the shorter side of life. Draco has placed it in the ‘undecided’ pile because he has like  _ five  _ plain white hoodies, and that one isn't even his softest, but he likes to wear it to sleep sometimes and honestly? He never thought the best place for his white hoodie would be his boyfriend, and he’s an idiot for not thinking about it sooner.

“Draco? Are you okay? Is it the-oh fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! I just got cold and it was the first thing I saw, here-take it back-”

Draco makes some sort of strangled noise in the back of his throat, jumping over to keep Harry from taking the jumper off. “Please, I beg you, anything you want in any pile is yours.”

“What? I don’t want it, I’m just a little chilly is all-”

“Well, it’s yours now.” Draco grabs a black hoodie from the nearest pile and shoves it into Harry’s chest. “Take this one too, and this one, and this one-”

_ “Draco!  _ That’s your favorite sleep shirt!”

“Yes and I want you to wear it. Preferably in my bed with me but beggars can't be choosers.”

_ “Draco.”  _ Harry says in his Serious Voice, but he’s laughing and  _ fuck  _ is it a beautiful sight. “What is it? I have too many clothes myself and I can’t just  _ take  _ your things.”

“You most certainly can.” Draco tells him. “Especially if I wear them often….”

Harry gives him a look and Draco kinda gets it. He is trying to shove off his wardrobe on his incredibly cute boyfriend who knows how particular Draco is about his outfits.

“You just...you look good in them. My clothes, that is. You should, um, wear them more.”

“Oh.” Harry’s face immediately softens with a warm blush. “Possessive, are we?”

“No. You’re just  _ really  _ pretty. And, I dunno, I guess I like seeing you in my-”

Harry cuts him off with a kiss. It’s innocent at first, just a peck, and then Harry’s dragging him closer by his hips and Draco’s reaching up to tangle a hand in messy black curls. 

Teeth snag on his lower lip, his free hand finds purchase on Harry’s back, and Harrys still trying to get closer. Those cursed teeth drag and tug and Draco can’t help but whimper.

“Oh!” Winky squeaks, and then Draco feels his left foot get caught on something and they both go tumbling back into the ‘donation’ pile. 

Harry lands on top of him with an ‘oof’ and immediately starts laughing despite Winky telling them off.

“Now is time for  _ cleaning,  _ sirs! If Winky needs to leave then Winky will and she will  _ not  _ assist Master Draco if he insists on-”

“Am I interrupting something?”

All three of them turn to see Theo in the doorway, well, Draco assumes it’s Theo from the voice, he can’t really see him over all the clothing. 

“No.” Winky huffs. “Master Theo can’t be interrupting because  _ nothing  _ is being done!” She pops out of the room while Harry winces. Draco doesn't understand what the big deal is. This is only like the fifth time he and Harry have had a kissing break.

Okay, maybe they’ve been kissing more than cleaning but still! A lot has gotten done!

Theo’s head pops into view from where he and Harry are still lying in clothing. “Can I borrow the two of you? Or is snogging on top of clothing the new thing for couples to do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Harry asks, shimmering himself into a standing position. “You could always ask Blaise.”

“Shut up!”

Draco groans, forcing himself up and looking at Theo expectantly. “Did you come in here for us to tease you or?”

“Oh right!” Theo lets his glare on Harry go and produces a letter from his pocket. “I thought you’d like to know about this.”

“Why would I want to know about a tailor’s appointment?” Draco asks after reading the brief note.

“It’s not a- _ fuck.  _ He would hide it..”

Theo plucks the letter from Draco’s hand, clears his throat, and reads:  _ “Theo, I need to speak with you immediately. Meet me by Narcissa’s floo at midnight.” _

“Who the hell-”

“It’s my dad.” 

Draco does a double take. “You-your father, the Death Eater...wants to meet at the main floo to my house. The house full of powerful wizards who are plotting to kill other Death Eaters.”

“Yep.” Theo shrugs. “Maybe if I’m lucky Narcissa will hex him.”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Narcissa does not plan on hexing him in front of Theo because she doesn't plan on letting Theo be anywhere near the man.

“I don’t care that he asked for Theo.” She’s telling Druella, “I won’t let that man harm a child in my house! Theo!” Theo snaps to attention, “Do you  _ want  _ to see your father?”

“No, thank you.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Druella sighs. “Sissy, love, I’m thrilled that you’ve grown a rather strong back bone, but if you’re not careful Mr. Nott could wreak havoc on your family! If he claims you’ve abducted his son-”

“I will simply abduct his throat from his neck.”

_ “Sissy!”  _ Alphard laughs. 

Druella isn’t impressed, and neither is Lucius.

“Love….you know the three of them will be waiting right outside the door anyways.”

The ‘three of them’ in question, Harry, Draco, and Theo, all nod because there’s no point in lying. Even if Theo doesn’t want to see his dad, the boy is still curious. Draco certainly is, and Harry just wants to be there in case anything goes wrong so he can ‘be the one to hex that bastard’. 

“Yes, and there will be a door between them so if he tries anything I can cut his little Death Eater arms off.”

“Should I let Sirius and Remus know that I’ll be over late?” Harry asks. Draco nods and summons a piece of paper for him while Druella laughs.

“Have they got you on a short leash Harry?”

“Hm? Oh, no ma’am. I just...well I kinda disappeared for a week and they’re still a little mad about it. Plus they like to know where I’m going so they can get me if I need them to.”

Druella blinks. “It was Remus who suggested this?”

“No ma’am. Sirius actually freaked out slightly more than Remus did, but Remus understands disappearing for a week more with his werewolf stuff so…”

“Huh. Who would’ve thought.” Druella says to Alphard, “Sirius is shaping up to be a good parent.”

“I told you he had it in him.”

“Yes I just didn’t believe you.”

Draco rolls his eyes and ushers his friends out of the room so Narcissa can make up her mind about Nott Senior’s floo call. He has to convenience Theo  _ not  _ to write or call the others until  _ after  _ the conversation has happened. Hiding three teenagers with a tact for snooping is a lot easier than hiding like thirteen of them, even with the twin’s extendable ears. 

Sirius floos over thirty minutes later, Harry’s letter in hand and a scowl on his face.

“Harry James Potter! You really expect me to be okay with you and a Death Eater being in the same house?”

Narcissa shrugs, “Lucius and I were Death Eaters once.”

“Yes but that’s-”

“Severus is still technically a Death Eater.” Lucius tells him.

“But that’s  _ different!”  _

Harry approaches him with a hug, smart move for the Gryffindor. It throws Sirius for a loop, and then Harry starts talking. 

“Well, I know the full moon is this week, and you and Remus are leaving tomorrow, which is why I came over in the first place, and-”

“Do you wish to stay with us?” Narcissa cuts in.

“If I can? Draco mentioned something about showing me why my potion skills are awful and Bill and Fleur are staying at the Weasleys until they can settle into their apartment so-”

“They’re moving here permanently?”

“Yeah? Did she not tell you? I thought that-”

“The point.” Sirius sighs. He cups Harry’s cheeks and forces the boy's attention back on him. “Tell me what the point is Poppet.”

Harry obliges, though his voice comes out funny from how Sirius is squishing his cheeks. “The Point is that Narcissa would never let anything bad happen to me, much less Draco who’s gonna be here too, so I thought it would be fine. If it’s not that’s perfectly fine and I can come home with you, if you’d like. You’re the guardian here, Godfather and also Adoptive Father Figure.”

“I can’t believe you're leaving the decision of your safety up to me….” Sirius sighs, but he does release Harry and turn to face his cousin.

“Don’t let anything happen to him.”

“I’m offended that you think I would.” Narcissa replies.

“If anything happens floo me immediately.”

“Nothing is going to happen so I won’t need to.”

“And if Nott lays a hand on  _ any  _ of them-”

“I’ll eviscerate him on the spot.” 

Sirius kisses his cousin’s cheek. “I love being related to you.”

“It’s an honor, that’s for sure.”

Alphard makes a very unseemly snorting noise. “Look at little Sirius, Dru, he’s being a helicopter parent.”

Druella poorly hides a laugh. Draco’s just stunned Alphard knows the muggle-term for  _ anything,  _ though he is right. Sirius is becoming a rather protective helicopter parent, hovering and always overly concerned. Not that Draco can blame him. Harry gets up to so much trouble  _ Draco  _ has to helicopter him sometimes. 

Getting Theo to relax is hell of a new type. He paces in the gardens, refuses to eat dinner, won’t focus on a book, nearly steps on Druella’s toes, Alphard takes to talking to him like one would talk to a brick wall.

At nine twenty Harry finally pulls Draco aside and pins him with an aggressive stare.

“Look,” He begins in a hushed tone, fully aware that Druella is watching them with prying eyes and listening ears, “I know you’re worried, he’s our friend and we want the best for him, but you’re stressing him out.”

“I’m trying to destress him!”

“I know, love, and you’ve done all you can. I’m not saying you’re doing bad, I’m just asking for a chance to give it a go myself.”

Harry blinks at him with emerald puppy eyes that he  _ knows  _ Draco is weak for. “I’m only letting you do this because you’re still in my jumper.”

“Really? All I had to do to get my way around you was wear your clothing?” Harry winks at him. “I’ll have to try it again later.”

He leaves Draco sputtering so he can drag Theo away from the big windows in the second living room and over to the Library, which Draco doesn't understand in the slightest. They already tried reading books, and Theo’s usual favorites didn’t do anything!

Harry doesn’t lead Theo to his usual stack of books.

Harry drags Theo, literally by the collar of his shirt, to a place in the Library that Draco usually deems ‘Blaise’s Area’. He then grabs a random book, opens it, shoves it into Theo’s hand and says: “Mate, what the hell is that plant?”

“The...the Chinese Brake Fern?” Theo asks.

“Yep. What is it and what does it do?”

“Harry, Narcissa literally has some in the gardens.”

“Yes but  _ why  _ does she have it? I’m assuming it’s useful if she’s bothering with it.”

“.....it helps her grow edible arsenic.”

“Fantastic! What’s arsenic?”

Theo sighs. “It’s-you bloody moron...it’s a  _ poison.” _

“Cool! Next page!” 

Theo seems resigned to his fate, but slowly opens up more and more, especially when Harry accidentally flips to a page on Mandrakes and Theo starts waxing poetically about his Mandrake, Martha. And since Harry is subjecting himself to this torture Draco sighs and does it too. Maybe it’ll help him in Herbology this upcoming year.

At a quarter to midnight, who knew plants could actually be interesting?, Narcissa comes to fetch them. 

She gives them strict instructions, shoving them into the adjoining tea room because the hallway is too obvious. Plus, it’s easier to hear a conversation in the tea room, the adjoining doors have never been reinforced for that very purpose. Though, Draco did expect it to be just the three of them listening in. He didn’t see the rest of his nosy family being involved.

“Why are you here?”

Alphard waves with a big smile that’s kinda gross seeing that his face is half stuffed with bread. Druella just holds her tea cup higher in greeting.

“Whatever do you mean, dear grandson? Is it wrong for a mother to inquire about her daughter’s dirty laundry?”

Draco resists the urge to smack his forehead and drag his hands along his face. Instead he turns to Lucius who just shrugs back.

“Surely you didn't expect me to stand by while my wife faces danger.”

“That’s...that’s actually a good one.”

“I feel like I should be offended.” Theo whispers to him. “That  _ is  _ my father they’re about to be eavesdropping on.”

“Oh! And Harry, wonderful job with distracting Young Theodore earlier, you’d make a  _ fine  _ Slytherin.” Druella cheers.

Theo glares at Harry, not bothering to hide it in the slightest. “Now I’m definitely offended.”

“Why? You were bringing the mood down.”

“I think I have the right to-”

“Come  _ on,  _ Theo.” Harry sighs. “I know this must suck, but it’s unavoidable. If you stress about it you’re just putting yourself through it twice, and Pansy says that stress is bad for the skin.”

“I do care about my skin…” Theo mumbles.

Alphard offers Harry a piece of bread, “That’s some wise advice from a fourteen year old.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Whose is it?”

“Sirius’s.”

Druella slaps a hand over her heart. “You’re telling me that  _ Sirius  _ is  _ wise  _ now too?! Dear Merlin my faint heart can’t take much more of this.”

“He’s had a hard life.” Harry shrugs.

Druella takes a moment to consider this. She opens her mouth to reply, but gets rudely hushed by Theo.

“He’s here.”

They’re all up against the door before another word can be spoken. The wooden panels are just big enough to fit them all, though Theo and Draco have the best spot. Right at the door cracks, where Draco can just see the sliver of Mr. Nott walking in through the fireplace. 

He stumbles a bit, finds his footing, and then, like the idiot he is, whispers out; “Theo? Theodore Nott, come out this instant!”

Theo tenses beside him, Draco holds out a hand that Theo grabs onto like a lifeline.

Theodore does not step out from the shadows of the main living room, but Narcissa does.

It’s always a rare sight to see his mother with her guards down. Usually she’s all uptight and proper, refusing to let a sliver of her Vella through unless she’s enraged.

Tonight her hair flicks out like wild snakes, rising and gleaming in the moonlight. Her walk is calm, a steady clink of heels on wood, but fire cackles at her feet, swirls up without burning her dress. Draco can’t see her eyes, but he knows they’re as black as the sky, without stars, without the moon, and without a singular ounce of mercy.

“Do not run.” Narcisa’s voices carries like a smooth knife. “You have asked to visit my home without my knowledge even though I have made it clear that Death Eaters are not welcome. Your request is as ridiculous as it is foolish, so I will make one.” She comes to a halt before a trembling Nott. “Give me a reason not to kill you where you stand.”

“Do it if you please.” Nott sighs. “I did not come here to start the war, Narcissa. Though you killing me might, in the end, be an act of mercy, not a signal to begin bloodshed.”

“You have five seconds to tell me what you want.”

“To see my son.” Nott whispers. “He...the Dark Lord...he killed my Charlotte...I can’t let him kill Theo too. I thought he was going to, I didn’t know he knew of her cottage, the whole reason I sent Theo away was to keep him  _ safe  _ and he never was!” Nott breaks away from his place before Narcissa, pacing wildly around the room. “He came back to the Manor and I did everything I could. As soon as I could free him I did, I shoved him back to Charlotte but I didn’t know! I didn’t….I didn’t even know she was dead.” 

Theo flinches at the break in his father’s voice. His grip on Draco’s hand tightens.

“You wish your boy to be safe and he is.”

Nott’s head whips around so quickly he has to steel himself. “You would protect him?”

“He sought us out, we could not refuse him on his deathbed.”

“Then the papers are true?” Nott quickly closes the distance between them. “He is  _ safe,  _ he is being cared for?”

“Yes.”

“He is unharmed?

“He was injured upon arrival, but he is well now.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Nott asks. “You may have the Malfoy name but we both know you’re Black at heart. For all I know you’ve locked him away in the dungeons and have used polyjuice for picture’s sake.”

Narcissa pauses, it’s totally something she would do. But not to Theo. The Minister? Probably. She’d love a change to have the Minister in her dungeons, but never a child.

“Theo.” She softly calls after a moment. “Come out, dear. It’s okay. I will keep you safe.”

Theo doesn’t move, like he’s frozen in place. 

Draco retracts his hand and pats his friend on the back. “Go. We’re all here if he tries anything.”

He still doesn’t look thrilled about it, but Theo’s not a Slytherin for nothing. He pushes his shoulders back, sets his jaw straight, and slips out of the tea room.

The second Nott spots his son he rushes to him, tears streaming from his eyes. He pulls Theo into a hug, cradling his head like he might break otherwise.

_ “Oh.  _ Oh, my boy.” Nott pulls back to cup Theo’s cheeks. Draco wonders if he’s the only one that can spot the rigid discomfort in his friend. “My brave boy. I’m sorry, I’m  _ so  _ sorry. If I had known-”

“You did not, father.”

“I should have.” Nott insists. The lines on Theo’s back grow more rigid by the second. “I know you’d never return to that Manor unless something happened and I was a blind fool who...who  _ allowed them to-” _

“Father.” Theo says. Much softer than Draco’s ever heard him before, filled with something as bitter as heartbreak. “I was healed. I am safe. I am going to be okay. Narcissa does not let harm befall children.”

“No. No I suppose she doesn’t.”

Nott pulls his child in for another hug, then turns to face Narcissa. “I cannot thank you enough. I-I don’t know if I could live with myself should he-”

“He will be protected here. The same can be said for you….for a price, of course.”

“Name it. Anything you want. You’ve saved my son, I am at your mercy.”

Narcissa smiles widely. 

Her plan becomes so startlingly clear that Draco nearly laughs.

Poor, poor native Mr. Nott. He’s walked into a snakepit with a viper queen at the head. He doesn’t even know that his son is one of those snakes, patiently waiting for the queen’s command.

The only person Narcissa answers to is Druella, and Druella might be the most poisonous Black in the family, but Narcissa is the most cunning. It’s amazing, really, Draco’s really hoping he’ll turn out like her.

“Your payment, Mr. Nott, is to become my spy.”

“Your spy?”

“Yes, when the time is right, you will help us take down the Dark Lord.”

Mr. Nott blinks twice, a small malicious smile of his own blooming. “You’re really doing it then? The whispers I’ve heard aren’t just rumors? You’ve really turned against him?”

“Turned against is the wrong term. I’m rather hoping for this all to end with his death.”

“The Dark Lord dead?” Nott whispers. “Not just gone like last time but dead for good?”

“Dead for good.”

Nott doesn’t even take a second to debate it. He walks right up to Narcissa and holds out his hand for her to shake.

“That bastard killed my wife and tortured my son, it would be my  _ pleasure  _ to assist in his death.”

Draco badly hides a snort, turning his head so it’s not quite as loud.

He turns at the right second to catch Harry’s horrified face.

Horror reaches his eyes, his mouth hangs open, his hands fall out from where they were stuffed in Draco’s white hoodie. He backs away slowly, and before Draco can call out to him Harry is running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who has covid ahahaha. it's not funny, i am very upset about it, but on the plus side this means i have more time to write so i'll be updating tomorrow too if i don't do it later today! 
> 
> Hermione, happy about a woman losing her job:  
> Ron, distraught: 
> 
> Harry: What do you mean LAV?!  
> Ron, just writing a letter to his friend:
> 
> Harry, cold, putting on Draco's sweater:  
> Draco, foaming at the mouth: Y E S
> 
> Druella, not believing that Sirius can be mature:  
> Sirius, just vibing: why do you hate me?
> 
> Narcissa: Murder!  
> Harry, a child: ...no?


	11. Godric, Merlin, and also Morgana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gives them a look when they exit. “For Godric’s sake.”

The Malfoy Manor has many nooks and crannies. Draco’s favorite is the stone ledge out on the corner of the garden porch. It’s comfortable enough to sit on, protected enough that it doesn't get wet when it rains, filled with vines and lovely purple flowers and the best part is that it looks over the entire gardens. 

That ledge is where he finally finds Harry, at roughly two in the morning. 

He’s hunched over, back against a pillar, knees pulled up to his chest, head resting on them like he’s asleep, but his shoulders are shaking too much for that.

Draco approaches him quietly. “Love?” He hates the way Harry jumps. 

Instead of doing something pointless, like asking Harry if he’s okay, Draco climbs on top of the railing, knocking his feet against Harry’s and leaning on his own pillar. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s stupid.” Harry mumbles into his knees.

“You wouldn’t be upset if it were stupid.”

“I just…” Harry untucks his head, resting his chin on his knees so he can look at Draco. “It’s all a bit much sometimes, you know? For fuck’s sake I’m fucking fourteen and I have this crazy asshole after me and it’s affecting everyone I care about and-and I guess some part of me has always known but what Narcissa said just made it stick. I’m going to have to kill someone if I want us all to survive this.”

Draco chooses his words very carefully. “We’re going to have to kill someone. We all will.”

“Yes but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re still  _ children  _ who are being forced to become  _ murderers.  _ We shouldn’t have to!” Harry’s eyes soften a fraction. “You’re only fifteen, Draco. You shouldn’t be a killer.”

“If you’re referring to Crouch Jr. I’ll have you know I’d do it again. I’ll kill anyone who comes after you.”

“So you don’t regret it?” Harry whispers. “You feel nothing about the blood on your hands?”

“I…”

_ Fuck.  _

The truth is that Draco hasn’t had the time to think about it, just like he didn’t have the time to think when he killed the bastard in the first place. Does he know that killing is generally frowned upon? Yes. But would that stop him from doing it again? No.

“When I got there I thought he was going to kill you and I just...well my body just reacted. It was you or him and I chose him and you’re right, it is fucked up that we’re doing this. But if I had to do it again I would.”

Harry turns his head. Instead of looking at Draco he looks out into the night, the only flowers visible right now are the luna moonflowers, and they’re apparently more interesting than he is, which means Harry is still upset.

“If it were me...if I had been in that room with Crouch, would you have let him kill me?”

“Absolutely not. I would’ve…” Harry sighs. “I would’ve killed him.”

“Exactly. I’m not saying we should go around killing everyone we dislike, but if someone came after you, or my family, or my friends...I would kill them without a second thought.”

“Sometimes,” Harry whispers after a minute, “Sometimes I want to. I wanted to kill Dumbledore last year when he put Ron in the lake. It scared me.”

“I want to kill Dumbledore all the time.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I wanted to kill that Candice lady too. Especially at the party.”

“I want to kill your muggle relatives.” Draco tells him. 

“There’s a waiting list on that one. Ron says if I ever say ‘fuck it’ he gets to go first.”

“I’ll work something out with him.”

Harry laughs, and then groans, and then rolls his head back to rest on the pillar. 

“Do you think Theo’s okay?” 

“He’s already gone to sleep. And so should we, Remus and Sirius are expecting you home in the morning.”

Harry nods, but he makes no effort to move so Draco drags him away from the railing and inside where they part outside Draco’s door. Having Harry sleep in the Manor without sleeping with him is weird, but Druella is here and Narcissa isn’t taking any risks. Merlin forbid they upset her, though Draco honestly doubts that she’ll care. 

Draco kisses Harry softly on the forehead, adding one to each of his cheeks, and finally landing his lips on Harry’s own. It’s a soft and sweet kiss. One that leaves a bitter taste on Draco’s mouth.

“Sleep well, love.”

“You too.”

Harry looks at him for a moment, as though he’d like to say something else, and then he nods. Draco watches him turn away. He waits until Harry’s door is closed before turning to his own room to take a proper fucking shower.

He’s toweling off his hair when his door creaks open to reveal Harry, freshly showered and sporting one of Draco’s hoodie that he forced on the boy. 

“Harry? Are you alright?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Harry mumbles. 

He didn’t even try. There hasn’t been enough  _ time  _ for him to try. Draco’s showers are usually long, always nearing the thirty minute mark, but thirty minutes is not long enough for one to fall asleep if they’re trying.

Draco doesn’t voice any of this. 

Draco slips on his favorite nightshirt and grabs Harry’s hand. 

Harry, who doesn't protest as Draco leads him to the bed. Who doesn’t say a word as Draco throws covers over them both. Who doesn’t even breath until he’s tucked under Draco’s arm.

“Will your grandmother be okay with this?” Harry whispers into the darkness.

Draco kisses him on the forehead. “This is my house, and when you’re here you sleep with me.”

“But-”

“When you’re here, you sleep with me.”

Harry relaxes into his hold, turns so his face is right against Draco’s neck, his breath tickling that area below Draco’s ear. “Thank you.”

Draco runs a hand through Harry’s hair, lets his hands come down to rub at Harry’s back.

Funny that he couldn’t fall asleep on his own, but he’s out in two seconds with Draco.

  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Apparently murder is a bigger deal to Harry than it is to Draco.

Granted, Draco was brought up with the understanding that life ends. Sometimes, it is just someone’s time and there’s nothing that can be done about it. Fatal wounds, illnesses with no cure, old age, threatening one Harry Potter, the list goes on in Draco’s mind. His father has killed, his mother has killed, even his godfather and grandparents have killed. And now Draco has too.

To him, it’s just a part of life. 

Malfoys are the targets for  _ several  _ people. Disgruntled workers, ministry people that Lucius has pissed off, anyone who’s holding on to useless grudges, people who Narcissa has pushed to the edge of no return, the growing list of enemies that Draco’s making. Learning to kill is just a Malfoy thing. They’re bred for it, in a way. 

Harry is not bred for it.

The Potter line might have several killers in it, but Harry’s never met them. He wasn’t raised by them, wasn’t taught by them, and by the time he was old enough to understand the thought of killing all the ‘enemies’ to his line were gone.

More importantly than that, Harry’s  _ never  _ enjoyed killing.

In his dark and dreary cupboard he welcomed any sign of life. He made friends with spiders and roaches. He cried when Aunt Petunia made him kill them, lost his appetite for a week when she cut off a garden snake’s head. For fuck’s sake, with all the times the Dursleys nearly killed him, Harry has every Godric forsaken right to hate Death.

Maybe that’s why Draco is fine with the idea of killing and why Harry is distraught for the rest of the week.

He returns to the Black Manor for a few hours, faking smiles for Remus and Sirius because Remus is about to go through a horrific night and Harry doesn’t want to make it worse by making him worry. He calls Ron and talks to him and the other Weasleys before hopping over to the Malfoy Manor where he has to put more of an effort into his mask than usual. Narcissa and Draco watch him like hawks, eyes narrowing when he laughs in a way that’s really fucking creepy. Even Lucius is keeping a closer eye on him, so Harry widens his smiles, pushes happy memories at the front of his mind so his act is more convincing. 

The memories seem to be playing on a small broken tv in the middle of the gloomy swamp that is his mind, but as long as he focuses on the telly and not the surrounding shadows he’s sure he’ll be fine. 

After a fitful night of no sleep despite Draco sleeping fine beside him, Harry joins in Hermione’s and Blaise’s bookclub because the sound of Theo reading distracts him from all the bad things clawing to get out. When they’re done with their daily chapter he lets Hermione force him into homework that he’s been avoiding. 

At some point he willingly sits with Pansy while she paints.

It’s a somewhat calming task, and Pansy really is talented.

Harry watches her swirl together reds and blues until they’re violet, watches her dip several brushes into water before letting them find their paths on her canvas. She’s painting a ‘scenery piece’ today of her favorite spot in the Malfoy Gardens. The area towards the very back, where the lake meets the redwoods and poppies and roses. Where rune stones glitter in whatever light the world grants them. Where everything is calm and safe and good.

“Alright what gives?”

Harry jumps from his stool where he’s been idly reading a Quidditch book. “Huh?”

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” Pansy turns on her stool, pointing a paint brush at him, “But you’re fucking depressed and it’s stinking up the room.”

“My bad? I can go?”

Pansy sighs. “Did I tell you to go?”

“No?”

“Then don’t go. I asked you what’s  _ wrong,  _ not to go be dramatic somewhere else. Merlin knows I don’t wish a depressed Harry Potter on anyone, that just seems rude.”

“Your comment is rude.” Harry snaps.

“And he’s back! Wonderful! Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Harry glares at her while her back is turned, but he does put down his book and sigh because Pansy is right. He needs to get out of this funk and the sooner he does that the better.

“I don’t want to kill.”

“Why?” Pansy asks simply, as though this is not an extremely important conversation.

“What do you mean  _ why?!  _ I’ll be taking someone’s life! Removing them from everything they’ve ever loved! I have to watch someone take their last breath, have to-to  _ destroy  _ them!”

Pansy sighs again, this time putting her brushes down and muttering something about ‘Gryffindor morals’. 

“Let me make it simple for you.” Pansy holds up a green and a blue paint brush. “These brushes are both people, okay? Sometimes their paths will clash” She shows them painting up and down until they meet in the middle. “If the green brush feels threatened, she might kill the blue brush. Especially if the blue brush is threatening her. This doesn’t mean the green brush enjoys killing, she is a paint brush, she enjoys painting. Her entire purpose is to paint, but if someone threatens that purpose, her paints, the other brushes, or her canvas, she might not have a choice, do you understand?”

Harry tries to, he really does, but this isn’t making even the smallest amount of sense. “Uh, no, no not really-”

“Bloody hell. Harry! I’m saying that you are your own version of a paint brush! You’re a  _ human being  _ for fuck’s sake. Your purpose isn’t to kill, it’s to  _ live.  _ To annoy the hell out of me, to make fun of Blaise, to listen to Hermione’s rants, to cook weird pies with Ron, and to hopefully fuck the life out of Draco! Get it? This war isn’t everything life has to offer, not for you, for the Malfoys, for Dumbledore, and it certainly isn’t the end game for  _ me.  _ Are you going to have to kill?  _ Yes.  _ We  _ all  _ will, and so what? The people we’ll have to kill aren’t good people! They tear families apart, they  _ killed  _ your parents and worst of all  _ they will kill us if we don’t kill them first.”  _

Pansy runs a hand over her face, dragging it through her braid, “Do you understand? If Draco hesitated with Crouch you would be  _ dead.  _ When the time comes, if you hesitate, one of us could be gone. If the choice is having blood on my hands or watching my friends die I know which one I would pick, do you?”

“Yes.” Harry whispers because he does know. He’d kill a million times over for his friends. It doesn't matter if he had to kill Albus Dumbledore himself, Harry would do it or die trying. 

“You would pick us?” Pansy says softly.

Harry brings his hands to cover his face because the answer is: “Yes. In a heartbeat...it’s not even a question, really, and that’s sick isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.”

Harry peeks up to see Pansy shrugging.

“To be willing to kill for your friends isn’t sick, it just means you care about them. It means you’re brave and that we can count on you. If you’re killing to protect no one can question your morals. It’s when you start killing for the hell of it that it becomes bad. Like mean ‘ol Riddle Fiddle, he kills just because, and when the time comes I, personally, would love a chance to kill him for all the times I thought he’d kill one of your first.”

Harry understands that one. The amount of times he thought he’d get grey hair early because of one Snake Face is ridiculous, and if he ever put Hermione or Ron in danger again Harry….well, Harry would simply have to kill him and deal with the guilt of it later.

“You’re not grey anymore…” Pansy studies him for a second, and then pats the space on the stool next to her, “That means you can help me clean my brushes.”

Harry groans nice and loud, but considering that Pansy just took a weight off his shoulders, Harry drags himself over to her bench and starts cleaning.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Draco thought he’d be looking forward to the day that Druella and Alphard finally leave, and yet, as the days drag on, Draco finds himself wishing they had more time. 

Druella, while terrifying at first, has quickly become one of his favorite people. She plays him at Wizard’s Chess, pokes fun with his friends, helps him make potions, asks Winky how she got so good at crafting, and LuLu fucking loves her. Draco often finds his little Kneazle curling up in between the two of them as they read, purring whenever Druella scratches her. 

Alphard stays the same goofy man that he always was. He spends a good amount of time with Sirius, who’s more than happy to have  _ more  _ family that loves him. Harry takes a liking to Alphard after an interesting broom race that he cheated his way into winning. Harry also picks up a few of Druella’s speech patterns, some of it’s cute, but sometimes hearing his Gryffindork say ‘Merlin and Morgana’ just makes him laugh. 

It’s all fun and games, except for the Order Meeting that Candice is no longer privy to.

“Shame that one…” Moody cracks a smile, “Maybe next time you’ll listen to me about manners, eh Albus?”

Narcissa declares that Moody is her favorite Auror the second everyone leaves, much to Druella’s delight.

“You mean Alastair? Merlin  _ and  _ Morgana, tell me he’s still as funny as he was when he was a child. You know it’s all Alphard used to talk about.”

“What can I say? I aim to inspire humor wherever I can, and that boy was a natural.”

Draco’s a little concerned about how much time the twins spend with Alphard, but if they’re not pranking  _ him,  _ Draco’s fine with it. He is until Fred sneaks a hair-color changing tart onto his plate and his relative high fives them from across the table. 

From that moment on he is, understandably, wary of them when they’re together.

Draco shows them Blaise’s book-watching trick, Hermione’s ‘cell phones’, they eat lunch together, spend many a night in the library or tea room, and before Draco knows it, he’s standing next to his mother and father as Druella and Alphard prepare to leave.

“You will write me twice a week.” Druella tells her daughter. “Any updates about the war will come straight from your mouth via floo call once every other month unless anything changes. I also expect an update about your boy every now and then.” She winks at Lucius from over Narcissa’s shoulder.

“Yes mother.”

Druella nods, turning to Draco. “You, young man, will write me one a month. I expect school, life-updates, and please let me know how dear Harry is, as well as your friends.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Merlin and Morgana, you two are so similar.” Druella huffs, turning to Lucius. “Let me know about anything these two refuse to share, will you dear?”

“Of course.” Lucius bends to kiss her cheek, Draco follows suit, as is customary.

Narcissa steps forward to hug her mother, but finds her cheeks cupped instead of arms around her waist.

“My brave girl...this will be your second war, love, are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“I can’t.” Narcissa whispers back. “Too many things that I care about are at stake, mother. You know this.”

“I do, I do. I love you, Narcissa Black Malfoy, and you,” She glares at all three of them,  _ “All  _ of you better be around for me to tell you that when this is over. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am.” Narcissa sighs, all fond and soft. She hugs her mother goodbye, offers Alphard a kiss on the cheek, and then the Malfoys all step back.

Alphard disappears through the floo with a wave and a smile, something that Druella tries to copy but her eyes linger, as though she's memorizing all of their faces just in case the worst happens. 

In the end the fire swallows her too and Draco’s left with his mother and father, staring into their fireplace with a melancholy taste in the air.

Narcissa clears her throat, a silly little motion that strikes them all into action.

“Well, I’m off to work.” Lucius says, kissing them both on the cheek. “If I’m nice maybe Fudge will finally tell me who the hell he’s sending into the Defense Position this year.”

“He’s still on that? I thought the Wizengamot overruled his need to put his own in?” Narcissa asks. Draco follows them as they go, walking his father to the front door. 

“They tried and  _ he  _ overruled  _ them.  _ It’s very annoying.” 

“Sounds like it.” Draco snorts. He hands his father his coat, Winky forks over his staff.

“What are you two going to do now? Plotting something as usual?”

Narcissa glares at her husband but Lucius is right.

Draco smirks something nasty at his father. “We...are planning Harry’s birthday party.”

“Merlin help that boy….”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, love.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


Draco is hiding something from him again, but it’s not just him this time.

Whatever the hell is happening is something  _ everyone  _ is a part of, well, everyone except for Harry. 

He tries Ron first because Ron never keeps secrets from him, and the boy just jumps and runs off saying his mum is calling him, but when Molly calls for someone, the whole house hears it, and Harry didn’t hear a damn thing. He tries the twins next, but without payment they’re not talking, and they’ve somehow gotten Ginny on their side, which means Luna isn’t budging either. 

Hermione thinks lying is just as stupid as he does, but she just smiles and shakes her head, which is so infuriating Harry doesn’t even have words for it.

His next stop is Theo, who refuses to look up from his book. Harry quickly gives up when Theo starts lecturing him about plants, running out of the room and right into Blaise, who’s too flustered that Harry caught him coming to visit Theo to give him information. Pansy’s a good bet, but she’s doing this annoying thing where she screams like a banshee if he comes too close to her. Something about ‘we already had a deep conversation and I  _ refuse  _ to have another!’ but Harry runs away before he can really figure anything out. 

Neville seems like a weak link, but the boy literally ignores his requests and demands to see Draco because he’s apparently helping Theo and Blaise in the Malfoy gardens. Mille starts visiting with Pansy, but because of Pansy’s screaming act he can’t get near her either.

It’s truly devastating, and he  _ does  _ try Draco because he knows  _ all  _ of Draco’s weaknesses. Harry corners him one evening in his room, right after dinner so he’s all full and happy. He dresses up for the act, one of Draco’s bigger sweaters, dark curly hair falling around his face in the way he knows Draco likes, tight shorts because Draco likes to look at his butt, he even puts on fucking chap stick! The whole nine yards and Draco attacks him before he can get a singular question out, not that Harry minds because he’d much rather make out with his boyfriend than whittle him for information.

Since none of his friends are helping, Harry tries the adults.

A task that’s so futile that Harry wonders why he even bothers.

Narcissa puts him into drills, Lucius asks him if he wants to strengthen his Occlumency shields, Belle and Katheriene just laugh at him and pat his head because it’s apparently ‘cute’ that he thinks he can get anything out of Slytherins.

They make a good point, so Harry tries the two people who would never lie to him.

But, just because they can’t lie to him doesn’t mean they can’t distract them, and fucking hell he’s easily distracted.

Sirius raises an eyebrow at his question of ‘what is Draco planning?’ and before he knows it they’re going through old wizard’s games and it’s ten o’clock at night, which means it’s time for bed and Harry wasted a whole day of questioning because Sirius is secretly a sneaky bastard.

Remus sets him to work in the kitchen the next day, then to reading, then to homework, and then, when Harry finally remembers to ask, he and Remus end up cooking with Kreecher, his task for information long forgotten.

“I give up!” He tells Hedwig on the final night. “This is pointless!”

Hedwig doesn’t even look up from cleaning her feathers.

“Traitor.”

She hoots sharply at him and Harry decides enough is enough for one day and promptly throws himself into his own bed. They have to go shopping for school supplies soon, and Harry will just demand they tell them what’s going on because he is  _ not  _ a child that needs to be lied to!

That thought is thrown out the window when Sirius shakes him awake at fucking midnight.

“Harry!”

“No.” Harry mumbles, rolling away from his godfather. He doesn’t expect his other godfather to be on the other side of his bed, and he’s suddenly very concerned if they’re both here. “Am in trouble?” He asks Remus's blurry figure.

His godfathers just laugh. 

“No, you’re not in trouble, but you do need to get up, Poppet.”

“It’s like…” Harry glances at his clock. “It’s midnight?! It’s sleep time!”

“Sleep later.” Remus tells him. “Get up, Poppet,  _ please.” _

He says ‘please’ but he’s also talking in his no-nonsense Teacher Voice so Harry groans, sitting up fully and coming to terms with the fact that his godfathers may be crazy. They ruffle his hair and leave him to get dressed in a predetermined outfit that he looks at with disdain.

“Did you know about this?” He asks Hedwig.

Hedwig just turns her back so he can dress, and then pecks lovingly at his fingers when he tries to pet her. She hoos him out the door, not giving him any information whatsoever, and it’s making him a little nervous.

When he steps into the living room he finds Sirius and Remus waiting for him. “You ready?”

“Can I know where we’re going?”

“To the Malfoy Manor.” Sirius shrugs.

Harry has a horrible feeling in his gut. “Did I finally piss off Narcissa? Is she going to kill me? It’s like midnight! You can’t kill at midnight! That’s like a three a.m. kinda task.”

“She’s not going to kill you.” Remus chuckles. “Just come on.”

Seeing that he has no choice in the matter, and that he’s already dressed for whatever occasion, Harry sighs and follows Sirius through the floo.

There’s no one to greet them in the main living room of Malfoy Manor. Harry is immediately suspicious. 

“Alright, that’s enough, what’s going on?!”

He turns to glare at his godfathers, but they too are gone. Harry looks around for a bit, panic steadily clawing its way up his throat. Call him a coward, but it’s  _ creepy.  _ People disappearing when they’re supposed to be right behind him? A Manor that’s usually crawling with people empty? He doesn’t know where this is going but he doesn't like it one bit.

And then, to make matters so much worse, Draco’s patronus appears before him.

The three snakes blink at him, and then turn their heads to the door. 

_ “Can you tell me what’s happening?”  _ He asks in Parseltongue.

The snakes rudely don’t speak back, so Harry takes a step forward, surprised when they slither towards the door. 

Okay. Draco’s three-headed snake patronus is leading him somewhere. That’s not creepy at all.

Because it’s Draco’s patronus, Harry follows it, still suspicious and with his wand out just in case. The snakes take him out of the main living room, down the hallway that Harry realizes is leading to the gardens. They slither down the steps outside, leading him through patches of flowers that Neville has clearly been working on, past fountains and practice circles, all the way to the edge of the garden, where the lake reflects the treelines. 

It’s dark out here, unnaturally dark, like Harry can barely see his hands out here dark, the only source of light is Draco’s patronus, and that is not comforting in the slightest. 

And then blinding lights fill the sky.

_ Fireworks.  _

Harry watches them fire and explode, coming out in dazzling circles of light. After a moment Harry watches as the patches of light zoom around to spell out a message. A message he has to double check, count backwards just to make sure it’s correct.

He blinks twice, rubs his eyes just to make sure this is real and it is.

_ Harry Birthday Harry  _ is still in the sky, and a second later Harry hears shuffling behind him. He turns to see the whole lot of his friends, Ron and Hermione holding a cake in the middle.

“Happy Birthday!” They scream at him and Harry…

Harry has no fucking clue what to do.

He’s  _ floored,  _ really, is this how birthdays are meant to be spent? So many emotions flood his body, he can’t possibly hope to catch up with them all, so he stands there, mouth wide open from shock.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Sirius, Remus, Draco, and Narcissa come rushing to him.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius cups his face, brushing away tears. “Did we startle you?”

“I told you the fireworks were too much.” Remus hisses to Narcissa, who’s looking more and more concerned by the second. 

His friends crowd around him, worried faces reflected in the glow of the fireworks still shooting off behind them. 

“Harry…” Hermione whispers to his left. “Surely you didn’t think we’d forget…”

“It’s your birthday.” Ron says, “Your first  _ real  _ birthday, not surrounded by those awful people and we...well, we wanted to celebrate it right.”

“Did we go too far?” Draco asks softly.

Harry shakes his head, he smiles so big and warm and  _ happily  _ that Sirius starts shaking. “It’s perfect.” He puts as many emotions as he can behind his words, hoping they’ll be enough to convey how wonderful this is, how  _ thankful  _ he is. “I can’t-I just-  _ thank you.  _ All of you.”

“Don’t thank us yet.” Pansy snorts, thankfully not screaming for once, “You haven’t even seen the best part!”

Fairy lights fill the sky and suddenly Harry can see  _ everything.  _

The little stone path filled with lights that leads back to the Manor, the way the flowers gleam in the fireworks, the little flags and flyers that wish him a happy birthday.

Draco takes his hand. “Shall we?”

Their little group rushes him back inside, right to the ballroom where presents wait. Winky greets him with a hug and before Harry can thank her too he has an arm full of LuLu and Blaise is pulling him to a waterfall of chocolate. 

The Weasleys all hug him, like a big pile of red with Harry in the middle, laughing off the embarrassment that he  _ cried.  _

Before he knows it, Hermione and Theo are shoving a cake in his face and Harry’s blowing out candles.

“Did you wish for anything?” Lucius asks him.

How could he? 

Harry’s much too busy basking in the glow of the warm yellow seeping into his bones to wish for anything more. 

Sirius demands he open presents next, beginning with his that he shoves into Harry’s hand. Harry who’s staring at the pile with an open mouth. “Those...those are all for me?”

“Of course!” Narcissa bristles. “We debated on only getting you one thing each, but, well, we love to shop, and you’re rather easy to shop for.”

Katheriene and Belle nod beside her, like having excess money to spend on him is a hard life indeed. 

Harry, as requested, begins with Sirius’s present, which turns out to be a couple new sweaters, a framed picture of Harry, Sirius, and Remus slinging chocolate cake batter at each other. Harry stares at the picture with a soft smile before Pansy descends on him.

She gets him a skincare set, Blaise gets him a ‘how to care for unseemly hair’ guide because he thinks he’s funny. Theo, thankfully does not get him plants that he would kill, but a journal with a  _ beautiful  _ self-writing quill. Neville  _ does  _ get him a plant, but it’s apparently impossible to kill and known to help brighten moods, so Harry’s actually rather touched by the gift. Katheriene and Belle get him several magical bits and pieces, like a Remembrall, potions books, pants with places for his wand. Millie gifts him both his cake and a photo album for all the pictures Pansy has apparently been taking. Luna gives him a hat to repeal ‘those nasty nargles’. Remus gets him a bottomless bag, filled with chocolate that doesn’t expire.

The twins fork over several new ‘jokes’ that Molly chews them out for before handing Harry a blanket she made herself. Arthur gives him a ‘muggle device’ that’s just a guitar that Harry fully intends on learning before the summer is over.

Fleur gives him a beginner’s guide to French, Bill rolls his eyes, giving him more crystals that he has a little sheet to go with so Harry knows what rock is what. Percy gifts him a beginning guide to politics, Charlie tells him that he’s obsessed with his job, and then proceeds to hand Harry a ball that has little magical dragons flying around on the inside. Harry chooses not to comment on the irony.

Lucius does though, and it starts a funny little argument that Draco uses as a distraction to pull Harry aside.

He hands Harry a small little silver box. “This isn’t going to explode when I open it, right?”

“Not unless you really want it to.” Draco laughs at his boyfriend’s face. “Relax, love, I wouldn’t get you something you don’t like…”

He’s right, so Harry opens the box and is so fucking confused. He holds up a simple silver chain, marveling at the emerald stone that glistens in the light.

“It’s a portkey.” Draco explains. “All you do is say the word ‘escape’ and you’ll be taken to the safest place wherever you are.”

“What if I’m at home?”

“Then it’ll take you to Remus and Sirius.”

“When I’m here?”

“It’ll take you to me.”

“And when I’m at Hogwarts?” Harry asks because he doesn't really go anywhere else, well, he goes to the Weasleys, but he’s always safe at The Burrow.

Draco smirks at him, “Hopefully it’ll still at you to me, though the idea of having you appear in my room in the middle of the night is quite the turn-”

“Harry, dear.”

They look over to see Narcissa rolling her eyes, “You still have to open the presents from Lucius and I! Stop distracting him Draco!”

Draco sticks his tongue out, Harry drags him back to the group before Draco can get hexed. 

Narcissa gets him a lovely cardigan that regulates with the temperature, a warding stone, ten more sweaters (he’s beginning to think that Draco is right, Narcissa buys  _ way too many  _ clothes). Lucius’s gift is small as well, a tiny little brown box with a lid attached. Harry swears he hears whispers from inside, so he lugs the top off and freezes on the spot.

Inside is the tiniest, smallest, most precious little black snake that Harry has ever seen in his life.

_ “Light? Why is light-new smell. New smell?”  _ The little snake opens its tiny black eyes and blinks at Harry.  _ “Oh. Human. Hello, human.” _

_ “Hello!” _

The snake rears back, then slithers up Harry’s hand to curl around his ring finger. It’s little tail wraps around Harry’s finger like the thing is a ring and not a living tiny,  _ tiny,  _ little snake.  _ “You speak! A Speaker!”  _ The snake leans down to scent him, then rears back again.  _ “The King? You are the King? No...you are human, you cannot be the King, but you smell like them. Why do you smell like the King?” _

_ “I am a friend to Uγεία, though I know her as Geia.” _

_ “A friend to Uγεία is a master to me.” _

_ “Do you have a name?” _

The snake gives him a funny little look, much like the rest of the room that he’s ignoring.  _ “Snakes do not have names!” _

_ “Well, you do now...how is-” _

“Harry? Do you like her?”

Harry looks up at Lucius, takes a deep breath, and then throws his arm around the taller, much to the man’s surprise.

“I take that as a yes?”

“Yes! Godric-Merlin  _ and  _ Morgana, I love her! She’s so  _ tiny!” _

_ “I am not!” _

_ “You are too.” _

The snake huffs at him, resting her head on Harry’s knuckle.  _ “Is my name Harry?” _

_ “What? No. You can’t be Harry, my name is Harry.” _

_ “Is it Morgana?” _

Harry blinks, then looks at the room that’s still recovering from him hugging Lucius. That or they’re recovering from hearing him speak in Parseltongue. Probably both.

“Can I name her Morgana or is that offensive?”

Several of the adults in the room throw their heads back and laugh, Theo and Pansy included. Blaise just sighs. “Name her whatever you want to Harry.”

_ “Do you like the name Morgana?” _

_ “It is acceptable.” _

Harry shrugs.  _ “Morgana it is then.” _

“I had no idea you’d be so...pleased.” Lucius says, shaking off his uncomfortable feelings, “I merely got her so you would not be lonely. Draco has LuLu, and I figured you should have someone too.”

_ “The mahogany man is right, I am a great companion.” _

Harry laughs, but Morgana does have a point. Lucius does tend to go heavy with his cologne. 

Draco moves closer to him, the rest of their friends following to get a closer look. 

Morgana raises her head, a small pink tongue coming out to lick Draco’s finger. Draco, his big bad Vella boyfriend, who  _ squeaks  _ and jumps back.

_ “He tastes of green apples.”  _ Morgana comments over his friends’ laughter. Harry decides then and there that he loves her with his entire heart.

She takes to tasting all of his friends, who make fun of Draco the entire time because  _ they  _ don’t squeal. She says that Hermione tastes of ink, Ron of meat, Theo of soil, Nevile of the color green, Blaise she says tastes like paper, the twins of honey, Luna states like snow, Ginny of brooms, and Pansy supposedly tastes of spiders, which Harry supposes makes sense. 

Pansy takes pride in tasting like spiders, until Morgana tastes Millie and sighs dreamily.

_ “What about this one?” _

_ “Cake...she tastes of cake!” _

Harry laughs. “She says you taste like cake.”

“Well that’s not fair at all!” Pansy sighs. “I can’t believe  _ you  _ taste better than I do!”

“Because spider is a good taste at all.” Ron mummers. Even Morgana snickers when Pansy hits him.

The adults get dragged into the fun, though it’s less happy for them all. Morgana says Sirius tastes like plums, Remus like a wet dog, which he doesn't find funny, but Sirius does. Katheriene apparently tastes like a web, Belle like lake water, Lucius she doesn't bother with because she doesn’t like the taste of maghony, Molly supposedly just tastes ‘warm’, and Arthur of dust. Fleur gets the grand taste of ‘fire’ while Bill is stuck with a ‘metal’ taste. Charlie she also refuses because snakes Do Not taste Dragons without consequences. Percy she considers, then tells Harry that he ‘smells boring’ so he’ll probably ‘taste boring’ too. 

As soon as Morgana tastes Narcissa she wipes her tongue on Harry’s hand.

_ “Bad?” _

_ “Bad. That one tastes like Death.” _

Narcissa laughs it off, looking at Lucius and saying: “She’s very perceptive.”

_ “You…”  _ Morgana licks him again.  _ “I quite like your taste. You taste like home.” _

_ “I suppose that’s a good thing, we’ll hopefully be together for a long time.” _

“She’ll get a little bigger.” He tunes back into Lucius telling him things that are probably important. “At her biggest, you’ll be able to wear her as a necklace, though a bracelet might be better. I’ve already spoken to Minerva about her being your ‘emotional support’ pet, Ellios signed off on it so we have a Mind Healer’s official signature.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you can take her everywhere you go, even in Hogwarts.” Draco tells him. He turns to his father with his arms crossed. “I can’t believe you upstaged my gift to Harry!”

Lucius just chuckles while Harry assures him that he loves his emerald bracelet too, even if it is a ‘Slytherin Color’.

Around two-thirty Molly declares it  _ far  _ past everyone’s bedtime, and the rest of the adults agree with her. Sirius helps Molly, Narcissa, and Lucius turn the third living room, the one without a floo connected, into a big sleepover area because Belle insists that sleeping in a living room is more fun than sleeping in individual rooms, and she’d be right. They transfigure the couches into several beds, Blaise puts on a book while Sirius enchants the ceiling to look like a starry night’s sky. 

The adults either return to their own rooms or to their own homes, leaving the teens to talk quietly into the night.

“We need to go to sleep.” Pansy says after thirty minutes. “We’re going shopping in the morning.”

“We’re going shopping?” Harry asks.

_ “What is shopping?” _

“Way to ruin the surprise  _ Pansy. _ ”

“He’s had enough surprises! And he’ll be awfully tired in the morning if you don’t let him sleep  _ Draco.” _

Harry kisses Draco’s cheek before he can say something mean. He curls a little tighter into Draco’s side and Draco quickly forgets about any mean response he had for Pansy, tightening his hold on Harry’s waist.

_ “I like this one.”  _ Morgana tells him,  _ “He is warm. He smells like you...and also not you...it is strange but I like it.” _

Harry ignores her, kissing the side of Draco’s jaw instead.

“Please don’t make out next to us.” Ron begs from his couch while Neville hits his arm. 

“You idiot! I didn’t know that sound was  _ kissing!” _

“Wanna hear it first hand?” Theo asks from across the room. Blaise raises from next to him, wiggling his eyes at a blushing Neville who rolls away so he can’t see them. 

Ginny groans loudly. “Leave Neville alone.”

“Come on, Nevie!” Fred and George cackle. “Don’t you wanna smoochie smooch?”

_ “No.  _ I don’t!”

Luna giggles next to Ginny, whispering something in her ear. Millie rolls her eyes at the whole thing, she’s somehow the only one of them that isn’t sharing.

Eventually Hermione takes mercy on Neville and shuts them all up. “Pansy is right! We need to go to bed!”

“You’re only saying that so  _ Pansy  _ can kiss  _ you!”  _ Fred tells her.

Hermione jinxes his mouth shut and everyone quickly quiets down, it’s quite nice to have a working mouth, thank you very much.

Despite everything, Draco kisses his forehead again. Long pales hands come up to run through Harry’s head. Morgana settles down on the top of his hand, humming with content until Harry falls asleep.

Pansy really  _ was  _ right. He hates waking up five hours later, at roughly nine, to the sound of Narcissa and Sirius opening blinds and wishing them ‘good morning’.

Draco mumbles curses into his hair, but Morgana seems happy about waking up.

_ “Human! Something smells good! Where is it? Where does it smell good?!” _

It smells good at the breakfast table, where Harry’s Birthday Festivities continue in the form of eggs, biscuits, and tiny grapes for his tiny friend because she likes the way it explodes in her mouth. 

“Hurry and get dressed.” Narcissa tells the group of teens when they’re done. “We have to hurry if we want to shop for us  _ and  _ for school.”

Harry dutifully dresses himself in Draco’s room, donning his new clothes from Narcissa. He takes a second to look at the locket hanging from his chest, the emerald bracelet hanging from his wrist, and Morgana, who’s curled up on his ring finger, sound asleep. He’s gotten a little bulkier over the summer, less skinny than he usually is, more muscles than bone now. He can see his thigh muscles straining under the rather tight slacks Narcissa got him. 

Draco certainly appreciates the view. He whistles as he comes out of his closet, blue eyes tracing a line from Harry’s calves to his butt, where they stop for a moment, to his back.

“Enjoying yourself?” Harry asks as he slips on a purple button-up.

Draco comes over to help him with his buttons, Harry’s pretty sure it’s an excuse to stare at his chest. “Very much so.” Draco finishes the buttons and kisses him softly.

“You’re beautiful” He says when they part.

“And  _ you’re  _ going to make us late.” Harry tells him.

He does nearly make them late, though Harry has a hand in the task.

Pansy and Hermione come banging on Draco’s door right as the making out reaches its peak, Harry’s pulling Draco down on top of him, wrinkling their clothes, leaving trails of open kisses on any exposed skin.

Hermione gives them a look when they exit. “For Godric’s sake.”

Pansy doesn’t even bother. She fixes their clothes with a flick of her wand. “Afraid I can’t do anything about the hickies.”

“Narcissa is going to kill us.”

“Nah, she’ll have to keep Sirius from laughing himself to death first.”

Sirius laughs so hard Harry’s worried he’s going to throw up, and Narcissa is not impressed at all. Lucius finds the whole thing slightly annoying, but he does wish everyone a good day as he steps out to go to work. They take the floo to Diagon Alley, the first stop being Gringotts.

Each of them wander into their own vaults, Harry wishes he could stay longer. He really does love being in his vault, surrounded by the things that were important to the family he never met.

_ “It is dusty in here, human, let’s leave.” _

_ “This is my family vault.”  _ Harry tells Morgana.  _ “It is dusty because the Potter line is an old one.” _

Morgana sneezes.  _ “Dusty.” _

And yeah, she makes a fair point. Harry shoves a few thousand coins into his bottomless bag, snagging another book on his way out where everyone is ready.

They go on a shopping spree that Pansy is proud of. Narcissa drags them to several boutiques Harry didn’t even know existed, though he’s more excited about the broom shop they stop at. He keeps his talking to Morgana to a minimum so the reporters don’t catch him red handed, or in this case, snake handed.

Not that it stops her from commenting.

_ “Too red.” _

_ “Yellow! Icky.” _

_ “Smells like butterscotch.” _

_ “Your Ron is very loud.” _

_ “Blaise is not funny.” _

_ “Ooh! Green!” _

_ “Why are you eating an apple like that? You should eat it whole!” _

_ “Narcissa is fun!” _

_ “How many books is your Hermione going to buy?” _

_ “Can we return to Draco? He is quiet, and I do not care about plants.” _

_ “Purple? No, burgundy.” _

_ “Can snakes even see color?”  _ Harry asks her quietly in the back of a candy store.

_ “Not normally. I am special.” _

_ “Of course you are.” _

They’re exiting a tea shop when Harry feels the chill. 

Morgan shivers on his hand.  _ “Something bad is coming.” _

Harry ignores her, she’s been saying that ever since he bought her snake treats. He links his freehand with Draco’s, chatting about the next level Firebolt that’s being released in a year. Hermione turns to tell them that books are more important than brooms.

Her long bushy hair swings in the sunlight, her mouth that’s open to tell them off widens, and Harry sees the horror fill her eyes.

Hermione screams right as Harry turns to see what the hell is making his friend freak out, and then he wishes he’d listen to Morgana sooner.

“Everyone get inside!” Narcissa yells but Harry can’t move.

It’s like third year all over again.

Looking into the lifeless face of a Dementor. 

He freezes up, feels everything he’s constantly fighting to get rid of, screams ring in his ear, but it’s not from around him, it’s his mother, just like it’s always been. 

Her screams fill his mind and then Draco’s pulling him back.

“Harry!  _ We have to get inside!” _

If he leaves...will someone else’s screams fill his mind?

Will it be Sirius, who’s running up to the sea of black with his wand drawn. 

There are ten Dementors, just like last time. The time that Sirius almost didn’t make it.

The time he almost lost someone else.

_ If the choice is having blood on my hands or watching my friends die...  _ Pansy’s voice echoes in his head. _ I know which one I would pick, do you? _

Harry shakes Draco off, rushing up to Sirius because he knows what his choice is.

He thinks about today, about last night. He thinks about the fireworks, about Hermione’s smile and Ron’s laugh. He thinks about Pansy’s annoyed face, about Theo and Blaise’s plant obsession. He thinks about Morgana, how Lucius’s face lit up when Harry smiled. He thinks about Narcissa hugging him. He thinks about how safe he always feels when Draco’s with him, he thinks about Remus’s chocolate cake, he thinks about Sirius welcoming him into his first real home.

All the thoughts pile on to one another, all making him stronger as he rushes towards the crowd. He can hear the others screaming after him, hear them calling him back but he can’t stop. Not now, not ever.

Harry stops before the crowd of Dementors, standing by Sirius’s side with his wand raised.

_ “Expecto Patronum!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I forgot to tell you all last chapter, but I do feel okay! My coworker got covid and very kindly spread it around to every last one of us. I'm pissed at her, but I basically did a speed run of covid where I felt like shit for three days and now I'm just waiting for my quarantine to end. I'm not a patient person and I have to give myself little projects so I don't go stir crazy, so I've basically been writing two wips, this one and another surprise one I'm not posting until I'm done, playing the sims, and getting to know my plants on a personal level.   
> Anyways, 
> 
> Harry and Draco: Horny  
> Literally everyone else: can you please just chill for five fucking seconds.
> 
> Pansy, actually giving good advice: here, morals.  
> Pansy, one day later: *screaming*
> 
> Lucius: Draco has a pet. Hermione has a pet. That Ronald has like seven chess sets...Blaise is Pansy's pet...  
> Lucius, spotting Morgana: Harry....Harry needs a pet too...  
> Morgana, knowing she's about to be some kid's toy: fuck.
> 
> Lucius: Wish for something!  
> Harry, sobbing, finally feeling complete and utter joy for the first time on his birthday: huh?
> 
> Druella: I will strike fear into your heart until you love me  
> Draco: fuck it's working
> 
> Theo and Blaise: *joking about Neville Kissing*  
> Theo and Blaise: *refusing to look at each other for the rest of the night*


	12. Ministry Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they’re back at it before either of them can say no. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a little sexual times and bigotry

Draco is, understandably, freaking the fuck out.

They’re supposed to be on their way to get school supplies because the book list hasn’t been released yet, but Hermione screams and Draco suddenly feels faint because there are  _ ten fucking Dementors  _ behind them.

The adults jump into action, Narcissa rushes all the children inside, Sirius runs off with other wizards to do something about their little problem and Harry isn’t fucking moving. He’s staring at Sirius with wide eyes, and Draco gets it.

He too is fucking concerned for his cousin because there are ten Dementors and three adults and those are not numbers that will produce a favorable outcome. This being said, he needs to get Harry inside. Like  _ now. _

Harry, as per fucking usual, ignores all his remarks about safety. He tears his hand from Draco’s and starts running before Draco can do a damn thing.

It’s funny to watch, actually. A fifteen year old, head just above Sirius’s shoulder, running as fast as he can, wand untucking and held firmly in his hand. Everything goes still in Draco’s mind. Just a wand slowly rising in the air, black curls flopping in the wind, the little sunlight that’s left in the wake of darkness gleaming with every step Harry takes.

_ “Expecto Patronum!” _

He’s seen Harry’s patronus before. Draco knows that it’s a stag, but what comes out of Harry’s wand isn’t a stag at all. It’s blinding white light, one that rushes forth and literally leaves all ten Dementors in piles of ashes. It’s so bright Draco has to shield his eyes, so big that Harry’s pushed back by the sheer force of it, and as it dies down, Draco realizes that every Merlin forsaken person in Diagon Alley has just seen what Harry Potter is capable of.

The clapping begins as Harry’s patronus fades out, and then, to both his and the street’s horror, Harry falls back into Sirius’s arms, head rolling to the side, wand dropping to the dirty pavement.

Draco understands that he is a Malfoy. He understands that Malfoys have a certain reputation to uphold, he understands that, he  _ does.  _

Draco throws it all out the window and rushes past adults quickly coming to look at The Savior Harry Potter. 

_ “Move!”  _ He snarls, throwing off several pairs of hands that try and hold him back.

“Draco-” Sirius begins.

_ “Shut up!”  _ Draco draws his wand, casting several diagnostics and forcing himself to calm down so he can figure out what the hell he’s looking at.

No obvious wounds, no external bleeding, no cuts or even a scrape, certainly not a scratch. It’s all on the inside, and there’s nothing too out of the ordinary. 

There’s evidence of rapid exhaustion, stress on the cortex from an over-use of magic, a mild inflamed area on the bridge of Harry’s nose, his body appears to be overworked, even though he was fine ten minutes ago.

“Love, we have to get him away from here.” Someone whispers in his ear.

Draco looks up to see Pansy and Hermione nodding. Sirius is over with Narcissa, already sending off patronuses to Merlin knows who. Ron and Blaise have gathered their other friends to create a barrier between them and the crowd.

“Draco,” Pansy says again. “We  _ need  _ to get him to a healer.”

“Is he okay?” Hermione chokes out. 

“He….he’s unconscious.” Draco says stupidly.

Pansy takes that as cue that Draco needs a healer too. 

It takes no time at all to get Harry back to the Black Manor and onto his bed. Narcissa keeps everyone out, well everyone but Severus, Draco, and herself.

“Boom Berries.” Draco says. “Boom Berries, cinnamon, and-”

“Horklump Juice?” Severus guesses. “If we use Dittany it could just worsen any inflammation.”

“Yes. Yes you’re-”

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes.” Severus tells him, disappearing behind the door Narcissa has been guarding.

Draco blinks at his retreating back and then nods. Great. Now he just needs a few pairs of extra hands. “Hermione! Pansy!”

The girls rush inside and Draco quickly sets them to work, calling Ron and Blaise in too because Blaise is particularly talented with water and he needs that as much as he needs someone to hold Harry’s body down while Draco fires cooling spells at him.

It’s a silly tactic, but when someone’s eye swells, they’re told to put ice on it, so Draco kinda feels like this is the same thing.

Fester comes rushing in moments before Severus returns with a Potion in his hand, Sirius and Remus hot on his heels.

“He’ll need lots of sleep,” Fester tells them, “He’s exhausted his core, but after a few days he should be fine. I’m assuming that you have something to do with the lack of swelling?” 

Draco bristles. “He  _ is  _ swelling. Horribly so, can’t you see it around his brain? It’s almost as bad as the lump in his chest!”

“Well, that is where magical cores are located, they’re right by the heart, it’s why magical anatomy is so important, one wrong move and-”

Draco begins to tell the man that he is  _ aware  _ of everything and that he already guessed that the little lump by Harry’s chest would have to be watched very carefully over the next few days. He’s cut off rather rudely by Lucius storming into the room.

“Where is Harry?! Is he okay? Arthur and Percy have been in a tizzy all morning, but I think Fudge is full of it! There’s no way  _ Dementors  _ were in  _ Diagon Alley  _ of all places and-oh Merlin, it’s true.”

Draco rolls his eyes as his father collects himself. 

“Fester, give me a report on the boy,  _ now.” _

“He will be fine in a few days, sir, he has merely overexerted himself as he dealt with the Dementors, sir.”

“But he  _ will  _ be fine, right?” Sirius asks, looking every bit like a worried mother. Draco briefly wonders if that’s how Narcissa looks wherever he’s up to something stupid.

“Yes. Young Master Draco is a natural healer, talented and very thorough in his work.”

“Cheers.” Lucius rubs a hand down his face before kissing his wife’s cheek. “I’m being hounded at work for details, are you okay if I begin hexing everyone who thinks they have something smart to say?”

“If they open their mouths about our family I think we have the right to shut them up.” Narcissa says coyly. 

Fester pretends not to hear any of it, which leaves Draco and Sirius to watch the never ending potions show that Severus is giving them.

“This should be all of them.” He tells Draco, then turns to Sirius with a set of  _ very  _ specific instructions. “Make him take this before he gets out of bed, understand? The rest can wait, this one before meals for three days, this one before bed, these five he’ll need to take immediately after waking and eating.”

“It looks like you’ve opened a potion’s store in my godson’s bedroom.” Sirius whispers.

Severus glares at him, “You clearly haven’t seen Draco’s lab.”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


“Well, we’re debating never letting you go out in public again.” Sirius tells Harry three days later.

“No we’re not.” Remus corrects. “We are, however,  _ very  _ concerned with your magical exhaustion. Drink this, Severus said it would help.”

Harry frowns, but he sits up a little straighter and turns to see his friends curled up in various spots around his room. Draco’s clinging to his arm something fierce, refusing to let go even in his sleep.

“Ah, don’t mind them. They’ve refused to leave your side, we gave up on keeping them out after the fifth time Draco snuck them all in.”

“Draco did it?” Harry rasps.

“Well, Pansy and Hermione helped out with the sneaking, Ron’s surprisingly good at distracting people and that Blaise is too charming for his own good.”

“So you got tricked?”

Sirius glares at him. “Drink your potion.”

Harry does, because Draco’s adamant about trusting certain teachers when they tell him to consume things. He feels immediately better, to be honest he didn’t really notice the strain until it went away. His back feels less sore, head no longer throbs when he moves, and his throat is now filled with a gross potion aftertaste that covers up how fucking dry it is.

Remus hands him some water that he dutifully swishes around his mouth and swallows.

“Better?”

“Better.” 

“Great!” Sirius pats his arm, the one that Draco isn’t clinging to. He sits up and nods to Remus, who flicks his wand and lets light stream in from both the window and the skylight above Harry’s bed.

Groans from his friends fill the room, but the adults are having none of it. 

“Everyone up! The Order will be here soon to question Harry and he needs to eat and shower first.”

“Can’t shower if he’s not awake.” Ron mumbles, dragging a blanket over his eyes.

“Ron makes a good point.” Harry says, chuckling when Draco stiffens next to him. “I can’t very well eat if I’m asleep, I rather think that’s a choking hazard-”

Draco attacks him before he can finish, pinning him down with one hand and cupping his cheek with the other. He has Harry’s damnable medical chart up seconds later, looking it over while he pats Harry down, hands spending an unnecessary amount of time in his chest. The others rush to the bed, Hermione nearly loses an arm when she tries to hug him during Draco’s examination.

After an annoyingly long second, filled with Remus and Sirius half laughing at and half complimenting Draco, his chart is vanished and Draco grips his chin. 

“If you  _ ever,  _ I mean  _ ever,  _ pull a stunt like that again, I  _ will  _ string you up by your toes and use you for potion ingredients.  _ Do I make myself clear?” _

Harry nods quickly, shrinking back under the weight of his boyfriend’s glare.

It doesn’t last long. 

As soon as Harry nods Draco’s pulling him close and smothering him half to death. “I thought your core was going to  _ explode  _ you moron!” 

Ron smacks the back of his head. “When someone as powerful as  _ Narcissa Malfoy  _ tells you to run,  _ you run!” _

“And you don’t go  _ running into certain danger!”  _ Pansy chides.

Blaise is the only one of his friends that doesn’t hit him. Physically, at least. Everyone knows Blaise is the king of emotional manipulation. “One might think you have a death wish, and if you could take a second to ponder over how this affects us, people who do care if you live or die, perhaps you’d stop acting like some  _ lunatic.” _

“Alright, alright.” Hermione glares at everyone, even though she was pinching him two seconds ago. “Harry did a dumb thing. Harry is, to put it kindly, a moron who wouldn’t know a knife from a spoon-”

“Hey!”

_ “But…. _ Harry also killed like ten Dementors in one go...he might have been  _ extremely neglectful  _ towards his own health-”

“I said I was sorry!”

“-and put us through several sleepless night-”

“It was three days!”

“-but his actions stemmed from good will and a need to protect us.” Hermione pat his head when she’s done, a slightly demeaning action that Harry doesn’t hate, actually.

“Thanks, ‘Mione, and for the record I was just thinking about how I didn’t want anyone to get hurt and well, I guess my body just kinda moved by itself-”

“Harry.” Hermione says in a voice far too sweet to match the expression on her face, “Draco doesn’t need all of your body for potion ingredients. Pull a stunt like that again and I’ll have what’s left of you to experiment on for my Transfiguration Thesis.”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

“They’re terrifying together.” Remus stage whispers to Sirius.

“It’s almost like they think we won’t permanently bind him to the house if he ever tries that again.” Sirius stage whispers back.

“Because we  _ won’t.” _

Remus’s glare is nothing compared to the look Sirius is giving him. 

They leave him to shower and get dressed. Hedwig is not impressed by his latest stunt, neither is Morgana.

_ “Do you have any idea how terrifying that was?!”  _ She hisses as he puts on his socks.  _ “Mrs. Snow tells me you do this all the time! How are we going to spend a long time together if you’re this persistent about causing your own death?!” _

_ “I don’t do it on purpose!” _ Harry says, holding out his hand so Morgana can slither onto his ring finger.  _ “And her name is Hedwig!” _

Hedwig hoos at him. 

“I feel as though you’re spreading unnecessary propaganda and also lies.”

_ “She is telling more of the truth than you are.” _

Harry glares at the both, but he does allow Hedwig to nip at his fingers before making his way to the dining room.  _ “I haven’t not told you the truth, we just haven’t had much time to get to know each other.” _

_ “Clearly. I expect a full history about you, human, as you are apparently famous, known to give Mrs. Snow and your friends frequent heart attacks, and-oh! That smell is bacon!” _

The smell is indeed bacon, a whole plate of it. Kreecher piles Harry’s personal plate high with fruits and eggs, adding only a few pieces of meat that he’s already resigned to share with Morgana. Then he leaves the others to fix their own plates and begins to pull potions out of thin air.

“Alright.” Harry says after Kreecher takes out the fourth one. “Are we playing a game or?”

“Mister Severus be asking Kreecher to remind Master Harry of his potions.”

“There’s like ten of them!”

“That might be my fault.” Draco pipes up. “I might’ve been….a little aggressive in assuring your health.”

“A little aggressive…” Sirius muses.

“He threatened to burn down the entire Ministry for their ‘negligence’ if you didn’t wake up today.” Blaise whispers to him. “The only time we could get him or Hermione to eat was if they were brewing with Snape, even Ron and Pansy mumming them didn’t help.”

“Ron and Pans went full mum?”

“It was almost as bad as Draco and ‘Mione going full psycho.”

“Don’t let him play like he was fine.” Pansy says from across the table. “He used every last one of his connections to find out where those Dementors came from, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Belle using the information you gathered to get  _ several  _ Ministry employees sacked?”

“There’s nothing wrong with cleaning house, love. Besides, you’re acting like Narcissa and Lucius haven’t been spearheading that effort since Tuesday afternoon.”

Harry blinks. Tuesday afternoon was when the attack happened, and now people are getting fired and his friends are all using their usually impressive talents to prove how scary they can be? What in the hell happened while he was out?

“You’ve missed a lot.” Remus tells him. “We’ll fill you in during the meeting, but I need you to take those potions first, Poppet. And eat something, you haven’t had real food in you for three days.”

As soon as Harry’s done with his food Narcissa and her usual crew come storming into the dining room.

“I’m going to hex Kingsley if he keeps trying to keep me out of the Auror Department- _ Harry!”  _ Harry’s smart enough to rise from his chair as Narcissa rushes over to him. She cups his face, turning his jaw in several directions before pulling him into a tight hug.

“You scared the life out of us! If you ever do that again-”

“You’ll use my eyes for earrings?” Harry muses.

Lucius chuckles, ruffling Harry’s already messy black hair. “You’re learning at least. Seriously, Draco is not the only one ready to murder you if you keep inisiting on putting yourself in danger. I, myself, am rather a fan of Sirius’s Lockdown solution.”

“See-”

_ “Sirius, we are not keeping Harry here he has school!” _

“We can get a tutor!”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll be safer!”

“It most certainly does,” Sirius argues back, “How many times has Harry nearly died at Hogwarts, hm?”

“It is appropriate to recall that the two of you were at the helm for one of those, if my memory is correct.” Snape draws from the doorway.

Harry looks over Katherine and Belle, both of whom and inspecting him like Narcissa had, to see Ellios standing next to the Potions Master.

“Belladonna, Katheriene, if you would.”

The girls both part for Snape, still sending death-glares Harry’s way.

Snape stops in front of him. He’s not at all threatening without his billowing black robes. In fact, wearing a loose black shirt tucked into off-white linen pants, Snape almost looks  _ normal.  _ His hair is  _ in a fucking pony tail  _ for fuck’s sake. 

“Mr. Potter, I assume Draco has already looked over your charts and deemed you safe to get out of bed.”

“I have.” Draco pipes up, “I went ahead and checked his chest too, the bump is gone completely, and there’s no registered swelling that I could find.”

At least that partly explains why Draco groped him in front of Sirius and Remus.

“Excellent. Well done, Draco.” Snape says. He turns to the twelve potion bottles. “We are unsure of the best way to treat your ailment, and though I’ve been in contact with Poppy, she is also wary to narrow it down too much. These first three you will take as soon as you finish eating.”

Harry downs them without further instructions, trying not to focus on the eyebrow Snape raises at him.

“Very well. These next four you’re to take at breakfast tomorrow. These two you will take once in the morning and once at night until the vials stop appearing, the rest are merely at your disposal should you need them.”

“What are they, sir?”

“Calming Draught, Dreamless Sleep, Pepper-Up, Rightness, Headache Reliever, and that last one is meant to have the same effect as chocolate after a Dementor attack.” Draco rattles off. “We thought, you know, if you faced ten of them you might have some lingering problems. I wasn’t willing to risk it.”

It’s obsessive, nearly fucking crazy and it makes Harry choke because it’s so fucking obvious how much they care about him. Even if it is reflected in an insane amount of potions and threats on his life. 

“That is also the reason I am here.” Ellios kneels before him. “I am available to you at short notice, Mr. Potter. We will discuss this at our first meeting if not sooner, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good-ah! Severus, it is nearly time, you must dress!”

“Because Merlin forbid he doesn't look like a bat for one damn day.” Belle mutters.

Snape, the mature adult that he is, merely sneers at the rest of them before disappearing. 

For the first time, and probably the last time, the Order Meeting is filled with information.

It’s subtle at first, but Harry hasn’t spent a summer around Slytherins for nothing. He’s learned, at the bare minimum, how to read a fucking room.

Kingsley is clearly unhappy with Narcissa, who looks thrilled to be here for once. Snape and Ellios are both remarkably unbothered, though Tonks also looks a little put off. Moody is too amused for comfort, Minerva is slightly annoyed, Belle is just as happy as Narcissa. Dumbledore looks older than he ever has. 

Thankfully, the Weasleys, with the exception of Percy and Arthur, just look bored.

“Are we going to be civilized?” Harry whispers to Draco, trying to figure out why Sirius is laughing at an annoyed Remus.

“Just wait.” Draco smirks back. 

Harry doesn’t have to wait long.

As it turns out, Narcissa really  _ does  _ care about him. 

The night of the attack she started something a little crazy. With the help of the Zabinis, the Parkinsons, and Sirius, Narcissa made a detailed list of complaints she has with the Ministry and has been ‘cleaning house’ ever since. Apparently there have only been two fired so far, but several have been threatened within an inch of their lives. 

Kingsley and Tonks have been fighting tooth and nail to keep her out of the Auror Department, even though she does make a fair point that there should’ve been a first responder team on the sight of the attack within three seconds because ‘we’re  _ magical,  _ Kingsley! Apparition is a thing for a reason!’ 

An attack that apparently never should've happened because all Dementors are  _ supposed  _ to be under the control of the Ministry and guardian Azkaban, which is the main reason Narcissa has been cleaning. There was a  _ massive  _ breakout, which is worrying to say the least because everyone that escaped is, of course, a fucking Death Eater. Meaning that there’s probably more than a few active Death Eaters in the Ministry. If someone’s turned traitor Narcissa is going to find them and show them just how fond she was of their little show. 

Also, apparently in his little coma, school lists were mailed out and to everyone’s surprise, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Pansy are now Perfects. Ron denies it vehemently, but Hermione seems pleased. Draco says it’s annoying, and does so while he’s glaring at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighs. “We are not here for that-”

“So we aren’t going to discuss that Harry was attacked during a clear show of dark forces gathering?” Belle asks, a sly little smile in her eyes. “Are we going to discuss the stranger Fudge is trying to put in Hogwarts? What about the number of Death Eaters we found in high positions within the Ministry? Oh! I know! We’re  _ clearly  _ about to discuss-”

She’s cut off by an owl Harry doesn’t recognize flying into the room. It drops a letter onto the table, right in front of Harry, and then disappears into the floo.

Harry reaches for it, it  _ does  _ have his name on it, but then the letter rights itself, shakes it’s paper, and Harry watches carefully as lips form from the wax seal.

“Harry James Potter.” The letter says, “For the use of underaged magic, you are to appear before the Wizengamot Court of Wizards on Wednesday, August 12 at two o’clock. The Disciplinary Hearing will be presided over by-”

Belle snatches the letter straight out of the air, ripping the wax seal off mid sentence and quickly reading over the letter.

“We’re going to address  _ that.”  _ Dumbledore sighs. 

Harry vaguely wonders if his white hair can turn any paler with stress. He leans into Draco once again. “I get a lawyer for that right?”

“Not  _ a  _ lawyer. You’re going to get  _ the  _ lawyer.” 

Harry sends him a look because he doesn't know a lawyer, much less one that understands wizarding law. Hermione might be his best bet, and then Harry realizes that  _ Lucius  _ has his letter, is wearing his working glasses, and highlighting sections of the letter with his wand.

“You have a suit, don’t you?” Lucius asks him, eyes never leaving the letter.

“Yes sir?”

“Good. I’ll brief you after Ginny’s birthday party.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


Ginny’s Birthday party is much like Harry’s, filled to the brim with teenagers and tired adults. She forces the teens to go swimming with her in the creek by the Burrow, and then they somehow end up in a mock Quidditch game. 

One the twins don’t participate in.

“What’s gotten into you?” Harry questions, landing so he can take a break and let Draco have a go. “Surely you’re still revving to beat up the Slytherin Beaters?”

“The Carrow twins!” Pansy calls from her and Millie’s Relaxation Station. Hermione pays them no mind, too wound up in her book to bother. 

“It’s your last year!” Harry pleads. “Tell me you aren’t quitting when you’ve only got a year left!”

Fred and George exchange a glance, peak over Harry’s shoulder at the cluster of adults, and then drag Harry towards the shed. 

“Don’t tell mum.” Is all the say before opening the doors, shoving Harry past all of Arthur’s work, and to a small trunk. 

“What’s in the-”

Fred opens the lid and shoves Harry inside. He falls in, very strange for a trunk, and what’s even weirder is when he stands up to see a small workshop of some kind.

“What the hell is-”

“This, Harry, is our lives’ work.”

“Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes! These are just our test batches though, we’re gonna test them out this year-”

“Spread the name a bit, you know?”

Harry gapes at them both, which is apparently an invitation to show him all their goodies. He leaves the shed a little bewildered, and wary to eat  _ anything  _ the twins give him this year.

Lucius finds him after a few hours. By far the weirdest sight he’s even seen, Lucius Malfoy, pureblood extraordinaire, complimenting Mrs. Weasley, known ‘blood traitor’, on her pudding while Mr.Weasley, Lucius’s known target for bullying, helps sort through Harry’s paperwork. It’s no secret that Mr.Weasley and Lucius have been on friendlier terms since the end of the Triwizard tournament, but the papers, and sometimes Harry, are still getting used to it. 

Lucius motions for him to sit down. “This isn’t going to take long, I’m actually hoping to get the trial thrown out before you have to appear in front of the court.”

“Right...what?”

“You only have one other mark on your record, it was two years ago, back when Sirius escaped, and while it was marked on your record, there’s a stamp with Fudge’s approval to ignore it. Meaning that this should be your first warning, not your second, and it’s weird that he’s pulling this because they typically don’t call people in for underaged magic until the third time.”

“Okay, so Fudge is being stupid, as usual.”

Lucius laughs, Arthur tries to hide his smile, but Sirius is chuckling so there’s really no point.

“It is likely,” Remus begins, “That he’s upset at your insistence that He-Who-Must-Not- oh screw it, that  _ Riddle  _ is back.”

“He is well aware that the other Wizengamot members find this summons as unnecessary as I do, if it doesn’t get thrown out then you’ll probably end up innocent.” Lucius sighs, taking off his glasses. “The papers are going to be in an uproar over this...although...that might come as an advantage…”

Before Harry can ask what that’s supposed to mean, Lucius is excusing himself, taking the stacks of papers with him so he can go and find Narcissa.

Mrs. Weasley sets a cup of tea in front of him. “Is this what it’s like to be friends with Slytherins?”

“What?” Harry smiles up at her, “Constantly in the midst of a scheme?”

“No, well-yes, actually.”

Harry shrugs. “I like being included. It’s more fun when you’re in on the joke.”

Sirius laughs at that.

He ends up going back home because he’s meeting with Lucius again in the morning and he doesn't want to wake up his friends. Draco  _ insists  _ on coming with him, and since the Malfoys are expecting him home in the morning and Harry’s going over anyways, Remus and Sirius agree.

“No funny business until you’ve gone through Poppy’s sex-ed class.”

Harry pales. “Madam Pomphrey has a sex-ed class?”

“Yep.” Sirius grimaces, “Beginning of fifth year, she’ll drag everyone into the Great Hall on the first Saturday.”

“She separates the boys and girls for the actual sex bit,” Remus tells them. “But the part about sexuality and gender identity are in front of everyone.”

It doesn't sound appealing in the slightest, but before he can comment on that, Draco drags him up to his room and shoves him down on the bed.

“I thought we weren’t up to any funny business?”

“We aren’t. I have to give you another exam.”

Harry groans. “When you said you were ‘playing doctor’ this is not what I had in mind.”

Draco slaps him lightly on his chest, then pulls out his wand so Harry’s torture can begin. 

It’s really not that bad. The blue light is comforting, in a weird way. It’s  _ Draco’s  _ magic, so of course Harry likes it. He listens to Draco mumbling, Hegwig’s snores, and after a while Morgana’s commentary on the whole thing.

_ “His magic...you like it?” _

_ “It makes me feel calm.”  _ Harry shrugs.

_ “Probably because it’s saved you many times.” _

_ “I thought you were a snake, not a psychologist.” _

_ “What’s that?” _

Harry rolls his eyes, but since Draco said he wasn’t allowed to move from the bed, Harry resigns himself to explaining Mind Healing to his little friend. The night before Ginny’s party he’d been cornered right before bed and hissed at until he told Morgana everything. And since she can’t really speak to anyone but him, Harry did tell her  _ everything.  _ Starting before first year and finishing with the mess they’re in now. During which, Morgana found a new appreciation for him and demanded to have an audience with Geia.

Draco’s exam takes longer than usual, Harry witnesses several charts that apparently all belong to him, and then Draco drags him to the bathroom for a bath.

“It doesn’t count as funny business if we’re just taking a bath.” He reasons.

Draco nods, “It’s not funny if it’s romantic.”

“My godfathers are upstairs.”

“And you’ve killed the mood.”

They do get up to  _ some  _ funny business. They are, after all, two teenage boys who are  _ very  _ attracted to each other. 

Like always, it starts off with one kiss, which leads to several, which leads to Harry sitting on Draco’s lap, trying to find the will to get off.

“You’re,” He gasps when Draco kisses down his throat. “You’re not helping.”

Draco bites into his skin and Harry moans. “I think I’m doing a good job.”

“This is funny business.” Harry points out, not that it stops him from pulling at Draco’s hair. He moves a little too quickly, the grinding doing something to relieve that burning sensation in his stomach. Or maybe urge it on, he’s not sure, but he wants  _ more  _ and he wants it  _ now. _

Draco responds by grabbing down on his hips as hard as possible. He stops Harry’s motions, pushing him back until they’re no longer chest to chest but looking at each other. For some weird reason, the look Draco gives him sends a spark down his spine. He simply cannot stop trembling.

“Do  _ you  _ find this funny?”

“No…”

“Good.”

And they’re back at it before either of them can say no. 

It gets a little more heated, a tooth snagging on a lip, a grind that offers a  _ heavenly  _ sensation, and that burning feeling growing more and more until Harry can’t stand it. He’s close, so unbelievably close, and then Morgana’s hiss comes from the doorway.

_ “Sirius said no funny business!” _

Harry groans in frustration, tearing his lips off Draco’s and resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulders.  _ “You, my friend, are an asshole.”  _ He pants.

_ “An asshole keeping you out of trouble!” _

“We got caught didn’t we?” Draco asks him. The hand that runs through his hair is not comforting giving how uncomfortable he is now that he can’t get his release. 

“I hate snakes.”

“No you don’t.”

_ “Your mate is right, if you hated snakes you would not be getting off-” _

_ “Morgana!” _

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


On the tenth of August, Harry finds himself waiting in the living room with the rest of his weird family for Lucius to get back from work.

The papers have taken care of most things. One slip to  _ Witch Weekly  _ and  _ The Daily Prophet  _ sparked enough public outcry to call the whole trial off. Some people apparently think that Demetors in public spaces and escaped Death Eaters are more concerning than a boy  _ saving  _ people from said creatures.

Molly’s practically taken over the kitchen, leading Kreecher around but the elf apparently appreciates anyone who  _ can  _ cook, so he’s rather happy about the whole thing. The rest of them are avoiding that area like it’s a war zone. Arthur, because he loves his wife, has already attempted to make contact and was thrown out within three seconds. The rest of the Weasleys weren’t even slightly sympathetic, all sending their father various forms of ‘I told you so’s. 

Sirius, to compensate for boredom, has hounded Belle, Katheriene, and Remus into a game of poker that the teens aren’t allowed to participate in. In the far corner, Narcissa and Tonks are whispering about something, but they put up a privacy charm so no one knows what they’re talking about.

“It’s  _ rude.”  _ Draco hisses to him, “I feel, as family, that I should be able to know.”

“You’re just upset because you can’t eavesdrop.” Pansy tells him.

He throws a pillow at her face, she ducks, and the pillow lands in the middle of what appears to be a plant cult.

Theo, Blaise, Neville, and Hermione don’t even notice the intrusion. They merely let the pillow into their little circle and go back to talking about the upcoming Herbology project.

Millie shakes her head, “If they start worshiping the greenhouses I’m committing them all to St. Muggos.”

“You’ll have to get them away from the plants first.” Ron tells her.

With the rest of the adults are Fleur and the rest of the Weasleys, watching the poker game and placing bets when they get bored. So far the twins have ten gallons on Sirius while Bill  _ insists  _ that Belle is going to win.

They’re all relatively calm, Harry himself is dozing in and out with Morgana on the floor by Draco. He’d made a token attempt to read through his defense textbook, but it’s all theoretical and boring as hell so what’s the point? Draco, for all his complaining about their plant friends, has his nose in  _ another  _ medical book, holding it with one hand while his other cards through Harry’s. It’s peaceful, nice even. Harry’s got his head on Draco’s thigh, he can hear laughter and conversations around him, and whatever Mrs. Weasley is cooking smells  _ amazing. _

Given the atmosphere, Harry jumps a little when the floo ignites, and then scrambles away from the fireplace so Lucius can come storming into the room.

“I am going to kill the Minister.”

“Not when you just admitted it to a room full of people you’re not.” Narcissa says, coming out from her corner with Tonks.

The other adults move away from the poker game, cards and bets forgotten, the plant freaks set their books down, even Pansy stops filing her nails. 

Harry stands, looking at a furious Lucius with a sense of dread. “What happened?”

“The Minister has lost his mind!”

He swears Percy mumbles ‘I’ll say’ but it could just be his ears.

Besides, he’s too busy listening to Lucius rant to hear anything else.

“We had a preliminary hearing to drop your charges, and most of the Wizgamot were  _ very vocal  _ about how ignorant this whole thing is, but Fudge wouldn’t listen until it came down to a vote. Two people.  _ Two bloody people!  _ Him and that Umbridge fucker who I am going to-”

_ “Lucius.”  _ Narcissa warns.

Lucius takes a deep breath. “Apologies. I believe I lost myself to completely justifiable anger. That  _ idiot’s  _ opinion aside,” Lucius turns to him with a smile that’s clearly forced. “Harry, you’re fine. I got you off with no charges and a promise to be more careful around muggles.”

“So...I don’t have to go to court?”

“You don’t have to go to court.”

“Great!” Harry smiles.

Draco, because he loves chaos, looks at his father with eyes that are  _ far  _ too innocent. “Who’s Umbridge?”

“Her  _ name  _ is Dolores.” Lucius spits. “And she’s a nasty little toad.”

“You’ve got it right on both accounts. I’ve been trying to investigate her for weeks.” Percy groans. “There’s something there that I’m just missing but…”

“How bad is she?” Blaise asks. “I haven’t heard of her, have you mum?”

Belle has a dark look on her face. “Oh I’ve heard of her alright. And Lucius is correct when he says she’s a nasty toad. I never knew pink could look ugly until I found out it was her favorite color. She’s done awful things. The last time I had the misfortune was when she tried to send an old woman to Azkaban under the claims that she was a werewolf. She’s one of those people who claim to support equality while shoving muggle-borns, creatures, and anyone she deems unworthy to the ground.”

“She’s the one who pushed through that law about werewolves not being able to work!” Blaise says, finally cluing in. He looks over to Remus with a scowl. “I hate her already.”

“As you should.” Lucius fumes.

Thankfully, Molly calls them all to the kitchen for dinner, but Harry suddenly has that feeling in his stomach.

The one that means something bad is bound to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the well wishes! I got back to work this week so it's back to normal posting schedule! 
> 
> Harry: I am just vibing. Please let me vibe
> 
> Draco and Harry: Horny  
> Morgana: not on my watch, bitch
> 
> Lucius: *ranting about murder*  
> Narcissa: i love him


	13. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best to get this over with.

The beginning of the school year comes with a flurry of activity.

Harry finds himself rushing around the Black Manor with Sirius and Remus trailing behind him to make sure he has everything.

“Plenty of socks?”

“Yes.”

“School uniform?”

“Yep!”

“Books? Quills? Paper?”

“Yes on all accounts!”

They pause in Harry’s room first to lug his trunk to the bottom of the stairs. Then they check the library and find one of Harry’s defense books that put him to sleep, the stairs where Harry spots his Firebolt, the tea room where he hastily gathers the cardigan Narcissa bought him, the main living room where Remus throws Harry the last of his homework, and finally land in the kitchen where Kreecher is waiting for him.

“I be packing Master Harry a small bag of goodies.” Kreecher tells him.

A small bag indeed, it fits perfectly in Harry’s hand with enough room for Morgana to slither up and sniff at it.

Hedwig flies onto his shoulder to take a peek too.

“They be holding until Christmas, sir.”

“Thank you!” He brings Kreecher in for a hug, something that shocks the elf into sputtering while Remus and Sirius laugh behind him. 

After Hedwig is secure in her cage they aparate to King’s Cross, not at all surprised to see everyone waiting for them.

It’s the first year he’s not happy to go back.

Not that he isn’t happy, Hogwarts will always be his first home. The first place he felt safe, where he met his friends, the place he owes everything to, really. But this year he has something to say goodbye to. He’ll never admit it, but he’s going to miss his bed, his little Snitch on his green window seal, Kreecher greeting him in the mornings with breakfast. He’s going to miss it all, but above everything he’s going to miss Sirius and Remus.

“Write us when you get there,” Remus tells him. 

Sirius snickers, eyeing Molly forcing a Perfect’s badge into Ron’s hand. “You  _ have  _ to let us know how  _ that  _ goes.”

“It’s barking mad, mum! I break as many school rules as Harry does, why can’t  _ he  _ be Perfect?”

“Breaking rules is not something to be  _ proud  _ of, Ronald!”

“Besides,” Ginny and the twins can barely contain themselves. “If you can handle Harry, the Gryffindors will be nothing.”

“Hey!”

Molly shushes her children, and after a long series of hugs from all four of his parental figures, they’re rushed onto the train.

Harry gets to pout about the fact that he already misses Sirius for all of two seconds before the rest of their friends find them. He’s just settled down with his head on Draco’s shoulder when his boyfriend sighs.

“You’re not going to like this, but I have to go do Perfect duties.”

“Are you sure? You don’t wanna stay here and be my pillow?”

The rest of their friends laugh at them, but Pansy practically shoves Draco out the door before either of them can say anything. Something about ‘cuddle on your own time’ but Harry can’t hear it over Ron begging Hermione not to make him go.

“I dunno what’s worse,” Blaise chuckles, “How whipped you are for Draco or how whipped Ron is for Hermione.”

“I’d say how dense you and Theo are.” Harry mumbles.

He apparently wasn’t quite enough, because Theo and Blaise spend the rest of the train ride blushing and looking at everyone but each other.

Godric this is going to be a long year.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


The bad feeling in Harry’s gut presents itself in the form of Dolores Umbridge. Lucius and Belle could not have given a more accurate description of the woman.

She looks like a literal toad, for one. Even when she’s smiling Harry can’t help but feel like he’s looking at a toad under the Imperius curse. Perhaps an evil toad, maybe? She’s clad in an obnoxious pink color from head to toe, looking nothing like the other professors.

Though, Harry has to admit, the reactions from the other professors are  _ hilarious.  _ Snape and McGonagall clearly hate the woman. McGonagall hides it better than Snape, but she, like the rest of the staff, is  _ not  _ happy about her being here. Harry’s more concerned with where Hagrid is.

Hermione shrugs when he asks her. “Dumbledore mentioned something about him going on a trip while you were out, but he didn’t specify.”

“Why would he?” Harry asks bitterly.

The exact second he speaks Umbridge turns her beady little eyes their way. Uncomfortable doesn’t even  _ begin  _ to describe the way he’s feeling. In the nicest way possible, he would rather admit every last dirty fantasy he’s ever had about Draco to Snape, in front of a crowd of reporters, with Lucius and Narcissa present, than deal with her gaze for one more second. It’s not even that it makes Harry nervous, because after last year it’s going to take a  _ lot  _ to make him feel any type of anxiety. He just...doesn’t like it.

He doesn’t like her.

And after her little speech, he might just hate her.

“She’s going to make this year awful.” Harry grumbles to Neville. 

“Not as bad as Ron and ‘Mione being Perfects.”

“Aye!” Fred drops an arm around Neville the exact second George descends down on Harry. “That’s our brother, Nev!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that this is going to be a disaster.” Ginny grumbles from behind them.

The whole house stares at Ron and Hermione for an uncomfortably long time after McGonagall’s announcement. 

“Is there a problem?”

“Uh, yeah?” Seamus says. “No offense, Professor, but Ron and Hermione are like...second only to Harry when it comes to rule breaking. I’m pretty sure they’re working through a list.”

“They’ve broken laws!” Parvati cries. 

“Like... _ come on!” _

“The only worse person you could’ve picked are the twins!” 

Harry glares at that comment, but the twins are cracking up so he lets it slide.

McGonagall, on the other hand, seems very unhappy with the amount of protests she’s getting, meaning she either agrees or disagrees. Judging from the laughter she’s trying to hold back, Harry’s going with the former. “Mrs. Granger is at the top of every glass she has ever taken. Despite her...adventures, she still manages to keep her grades and extracurricular activities separate. You’d all do well to follow her  _ academic  _ example.”

“So you  _ want  _ us to sneak out after curfew?”

“That is not what I-”

“With all due respect, professor,” Ron begins, “We  _ are  _ kinda the poster children for what ‘not’ to do, so if you’d like my badge back-”

“You will do no such thing, Mr. Weasley!” She silences the rest of them with a single glare, but there’s humor dancing behind her eyes. “Put aside your personal beliefs, Mrs. Granger is a  _ wonderful  _ **_academic_ ** example and Mr. Weasley has overcome many...challenges.”

Hermione looks like she might cry and the rest of the common room is with her. Ron, the only sensible one in the room, just raises his hand.

For some reason he’s surprised when people listen to him. 

“Look, clearly we can’t get out of this even though I definitely want to, so just, I dunno. Don’t get caught?”

“We’re supposed to tell them to behave.” Hermione sighs, “But considering our personal track record I suppose that would be a bit hypocritical…”

Parvati reaches up and takes both of Hermione’s hands. “I love you, I really do, ‘Mione, but if you yell at me for being in the restricted section I am going to laugh in your face.”

“It’s like Ron said,” Hermione shrugs, “Don’t get caught and it won’t be a problem.”

McGonagall excuses herself after that, but Harry  _ swears  _ he sees her laughing on the way out.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


There’s a couple of things that Draco expects for this year. 

Obviously, Umbridge is going to be a problem. The Order  _ seriously  _ should’ve listened to him when he said the Ministry would be an issue because here it is, in the form of Umbridge, about to bite them all in the ass. And he knows that his mum and dad are trying to work through a potential list of Ministry officials that simply need to go, he knows that they have  _ plans  _ for the Ministry, and he knows that his mother isn’t really a ‘mercy’ type of person. Maybe all the firing will make them lucky. Maybe Umbridge won’t be that bad.

But they’re still at the beginning of a war, and the Slytherin house is notorious for being morally grey, so Draco’s prepared to walk in with his wand at the ready.

He has allies. Pansy and Blaise would murder anyone who tried to hurt him; there’s Theo and Millie; Daphne is a solid probably, she did come to the ball and sit with them at the final feast last year. Flint’s not bad, neither is Caissus, so that’s two seventh years that won’t be after him, hopefully. Flint will be too busy trying not to fail his NEWTs again to worry about anything other than academics, and Caissus is terrified of taking the tests for the first time.

Looking around, Draco tries to spot anyone else he knows will have his back.

The first and second years are too new, too  _ young  _ to understand much. He sees little Emilia waving to Pansy and him so he waves back. Third years all just look confused and frightened. Fourth years seem more concerned, if not terrified. The Carrow Twins are the only ones who seem comfortable, actually. Even Crabbe and Goyle aren’t entirely sure of everyone.

Logically speaking, he knows not to trust anyone but his friends, but the Quidditch Team has got to be safe, right? No one really trusts the Carrow Twins, so you know, he might have an issue with the beaters, though with Severus appointing the new Captain, it shouldn’t be that bad. They’re gonna have to replace a few players but Draco’s pretty confident that the blood purists no longer want anything to do with him, so they’ll hopefully stay off the Quidditch team. 

“Alright.” Draco says to the first years, surprised when the entire room looks us at him and Pansy. “This is the common room, Snape will be by shortly to give his speech, if there are any questions you may ask now or when Professor Snape is done.”

Emilia, the cheeky girl from last year, raises a butterfly pen to the top of the room. “Mr. Draco?”

“Malfoy is  _ fine,  _ Emilia. How can we help you?”

“Is your boyfriend okay after the Dementor attack?”

Draco doesn't blush, he  _ doesn’t.  _ It’s just...hot in the dungeons for August is all. 

Pansy clears her throat, elbowing him in the side. “Harry Potter is just fine, you saw him at the feast, Emmy.”

Emilia smiles all cheekily at them, and then glances around the rest of the now uncomfortable common room. Some won’t look him in the eye, some are on the verge of crying, others he’s worried might start slinging hexes, but before anything too drastic can happen, a small girl with big blue eyes steps up to him.

“Mr. Draco, is Emmy right? We really don’t have to worry about...you know... _ him.” _

The entire common room freezes, every last set of eyes lands on him, and it seems as though all of his house, even the walls and the fireplaces, are holding their breath. 

“This is a school, not a war zone.” Draco tells her, then lifts his head to address the common room. “We have all types of people here, purebloods, half-bloods, and even muggleborns. Outside things might be different, but while you’re here you are a Slytherin first and foremost. You look out for each other, you  _ care  _ for each other. You have each other’s back. Being Slytherin does not mean you’re dark or evil, and it doesn’t mean you have to follow Rid-the Dark Lord. We are our own leaders, we follow whatever path is correct for us to take, but we do that while looking after each other, got it? If I find out one of you has been going after another snake we will have  _ words,  _ understand?”

He says that, but he knows that sometimes people have tasks. Hell, Draco would do  _ anything  _ to keep Narcissa and Lucius safe from Riddle Fiddle, and by the looks on some of their faces, he’s sure some are in his most feared position. 

“I understand that it isn’t all black and white. If you have personal reasons or need help come talk to me or Professor Snape. Remember, Slytherins look out for Slytherins.”

It’s kinda creepy, the way they all nod at the same time, but before anyone can ask another question Severus enters the room, billowing black robes and all.

He gives his normal speech, tells them not to get caught because that’s when he has to take points, reminds them of curfew, of the expectations that Slytherins get stuck with.

“I will not insult you by lying to your faces, there is a war brewing, and if you all cannot keep inter house drama inside these walls you will be punished. I will not have my snakes killing each other, not when so many of you are focusing on your NEWTs and OWLs this year. Am I understood?”

Emilia giggles, Draco thinks he hears her point out how alike he and his godfather are, but one can never be sure.

“Finally, as some of you may have noticed, we only have three players left on our Quidditch team, meaning the three of them have a chance at being Captain. If my snakes could step forward.”

Just like every year since second year, Draco steps to the front of the room. He has seniority over the Carrow Twins, so it’s not surprising when Severus hands him the badge. “This will not interfere with your Perfect Duties.”

“Yes sir.”

Severus shakes his hand, and Draco’s almost positive the man will call him into his office so he can talk about how  _ proud  _ he is later. 

For now, Severus just leaves to attend the meeting for the Heads of House, leaving Draco and Pansy to face the rest of the weirdly in sync Slytherins.

“I’ll get a try-out schedule tomorrow for anyone who’s interested, curfews in an hour, if you go out don’t get caught.”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


“Does this mean I have to go easy on you now?”

“Absolutely not.”

They’re making a scene again, but what’s new? Cedric was the one who got them all into this mess, flagging them down when they walked into the Great Hall, but when one of them is out of place, the entire group follows.

Which is how Harry finds himself sitting at the Ravenclaw table, squished in between Neville and Ron, while the rest of their friends file into the seats around them. It should be awkward, and Harry’s expecting a few glares, but the best they get is some grumbling as the other Ravenclaws make room for the big group settling down.

“Well this is cosy.” Hermione complains, and then she looks over at Cedric and gasps.

“Cedric Diggory! Is that a Head Boy badge I see?”

“It is!” Cedric leans over and bumps into Willie, who’s the only Hufflepuff Harry’s ever seen glare. “Willie’s a bit upset, probably wished it would be him.”

“I do not! I don’t want any responsibility for  _ any  _ of you idiots.” Willie glares.

Hermione studies him closely. It’s not a good feeling, but no one’s  _ supposed  _ to feel  _ good  _ when Hermione is looking at them like that. “You’re not very….”

“Mature?” Cho offers.

“Hey!”

“I was going to say kind.” Hermione laughs. “I, well, no offense, but I though kindness was kinda Hufflepuff’s-”

“Well you thought wrong.” Willie spits.

Cedric lightly slaps his shoulder. “Stop being a dick.” He says to Willie, then turns to Hermione. “You’d never guess it but Willie is actually pretty sweet, he’s just extra cranky in the morning.” 

“I am not!”

“Also, Huffles can have a mean streak. You’re all just too nice to have discovered it before now, unless you’ve talked to Susan that is.”

“But we didn’t wave you over to talk about that!” Cho demands, finally putting her NEWT Charms book down. “We called you to talk about your OWLs! Do you have a study plan? We took ours over the summer because of the Tournament, and let me tell you-”

“Was it awful? I’ve been trying to figure out what type of questions they ask..” Hermione says.

Her and Cho launch into the topic, Neville, being surprisingly brave, timidly starts a conversation with Willie about the Herbology book he’s reading. Which leaves Cedric, Ron, and Harry to talk about their summers.

Apparently, he and Cho spent the entire break on an island, which sounds  _ heavenly.  _ Doesn’t Draco’s family have an island? Can’t they go spend at least like a week there? It would’ve been better than training every week. Less practical, sure, but definitely more fun.

Speaking of his boyfriend, Harry’s laughing at something Ron’s said when Cedric points to the front and Harry gets to see his entrance.

Draco steps into the Great Hall, Pansy and Blaise on either side of him. Harry always forgets how his boyfriend can hold everyone’s attention when he wants to. Halfway because he’s Draco Malfoy, the famous resident hot-boy, but also because he’s searching for something that he seems to find when he sees Harry.

Harry stands, walking up to meet his needy boyfriend by the entrance.

“Good morning.” 

“You’re causing a stir already.” Draco whispers to him.

Pansy and Blaise roll their eyes, looking over to smile at the Ravenclaw where their friends are.

“I feel like we’re gonna make a big mess out of everything this year.”

Draco tucks a piece of hair behind Harry’s ear. “And you say that  _ I’m  _ dramatic.”

“You are.” Harry says softly, automatically, while the rest of his Slytherin friends gag around them.

“Can you flirt somewhere else?” Millie whines.

Theo glares  _ way  _ too harshly. “It is  _ too early  _ for the two of you to be doing this.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but he does kiss Harry’s cheek and part with a promise to compare schedules before the first day ends. 

“Making out already?” Ginny asks as she sits down.

“I wish.”

His wish comes true soon enough.

The best part about not having to sneak around is that sneaking around is suddenly fun. It’s  _ brilliant,  _ actually. And he and Draco spend the first week back doing just that.

The Gryffindors have History of Magic first thing on Mondays, which means Harry gets a wonderful nap full of Hermione’s frowns and then gets snagged into an alcove by Draco, who’s fresh out of Charms. They get a few kisses in before they have to part, Harry to Charms and Draco to take a nap in History class. After lunch, a weird affair where Harry’s reminded of how many of his friends are in different houses, they have double Transfiguration, which would be fun, but Hermione and Draco are both big nerds, and now that their friendship is out in the open, so is their academic competition. McGonagall seems pleased that the lions and snakes are finally getting along, and then she realizes that Ron and Pansy don’t  _ shut up  _ and her happiness quickly turns into annoyance. 

In the morning Harry drags himself to Care of Magical Creatures, eyeing the group of Slytherins on the way to the green houses. It’s not fun without Hagrid, the entire class feels off, actually. He spots Draco coming  _ to  _ the class while the Gryffindors are on their way to Herbology. Turns out that snogging behind trees is  _ amazing  _ and wonderful and exciting. It’s exactly what he needs to cheer him up. Or it is until his friends are yelling at him for making them late.

Having both classes outside means the group of them get to meet up and walk to the Great Hall together. Neville, Theo, and Blaise ignore everyone, in the middle of a big plant debate that Hermione quickly joins. It doesn’t go unnoticed, at all, but no one says anything to them so Harry thinks it’s fine. After lunch on Tuesday Harry has a free period because he dropped Muggle Studies, but he had to keep Divination for now, so he trugs up the steps to the sixth floor, wondering why he did this to himself and why his boyfriend is stuck in a double Defense.

“Ready to get your death predicted again?” Lavender asks him. 

Her and Ron dissolve into giggles, and because Ron and Lavender are actually friends, she joins their table. Harry...doesn’t hate her, per say. She has some good points. Like, she’s funny, she agrees that the only way to get through Divination is by lying through your teeth, Seamus and Dean like her. But...there’s just something that’s off.

Before he can ponder it the dinner bell rings. He and Draco sneak away early so they can make out in the Gang’s Room before the rest of their friends arrive and Draco and Hermione start making a study plan for OWLs. They put a lot of emphasis on Defense because apparently the teacher is worse than Harry thought she’d be. The Slytherins have  _ plenty  _ of colorful things to say and Harry is suddenly dreading his double Defense on Thursday.

Harry gets to sleep in on Wednesday morning, because unlike Draco and Hermione, he  _ doesn't  _ think Ancient Runes are interesting. He does, however, drag Ron to their Ancient Studies class where they make fun of Pansy because they’ll be focusing on Japanese Wizarding Cultures. Ron gulps at the image of a spider on the board, but Pansy is beaming so it can’t be that bad.

After lunch Harry finds himself in a tricky spot. See, he doesn't  _ want  _ another class to deal with, especially with OWLs at the end of the year, but Ellios is teaching. Ellios, their Order Member friend, who makes Snape seem more like a tiny angry child than a scary teacher, Ellios who is sweet and nice and Harry’s already agreed to have a session with them, so  _ of course  _ he’s going to let Hermione drag him to the trial class.

A surprising amount of fifth years are here, all people Harry knows and somewhat likes. Astoria, Daphne, and Susan Bones are whispering together in one corner. They pause when the group walks in, and then wave them over. Blaise leads, plopping down by Susan while Theo takes the seat next to him. Neville and Ron don’t break their conversation once, Draco and Hermione are actually excited, and Harry finds himself with Pansy, wishing the class was over so he can take a nap.

And then Ellios walks into the room, looking every bit like a god.

“I am Ellios Livia, I am sure that many of you recognize me from last year as I was a teacher at Durmstrang until this year. Now,” Ellios turns to face the class. “In this classroom I can teach you how to strengthen your mind, to appear invisible to your enemies, to form a healthy relationship with yourself, to notice signs of abuse and wrongs that you never thought were anything but right. All I require from you is a willingness to learn and respect that will, of course, be mutual.”

Ellios flicks their wand to the board, but notices Susan’s hand and nods her way.

“Professor, what do we, um...in regards to honorifics?”

Susan looks extremely uncomfortable asking, but it’s Susan and if there’s anything she hates it’s not knowing how to make someone feel comfortable. She has to get her prey happy before she eats them, or that’s what Blaise says at least.

Ellios just smiles. “You will call me Professor Ellios, or professor. I do not have a gender and I doubt I will acquire a desire for one during the school year, so when speaking of me with your peers I request that you use they/them instead of other pronouns, though I was told Poppy will be educating you on  _ that  _ topic this Friday.”

Harry is dreading this Friday, but Ellios’s class is interesting. He actually kinda likes it...learning about the mind doesn’t seem like a  _ bad  _ thing and the teacher is right, he probably does have some fucked up trauma he should fix. 

Draco and Hermione fawn over it, Draco because he wants to learn about the Mind and incorporate it into his medical knowledge, and Hermione because it’s a class and she loves to learn. 

He makes the mistake of admitting that he did, in fact, like the class, and has to have Ron drag him away from Hermione trying to convince him to join Arithmancy. Over his  _ dead body  _ would he willingly take a math class, magical or not, it’s still math and math is evil. Ron drags him towards the Gryffindor common room, with every intent of flying for the remainder of the afternoon. 

It’s great, having the secret out in the open. He can be friends with his friends, but like, in the  _ real  _ way. In the way he dreamed about for two very long and annoying years. He can walk arm in arm with Pansy and talk about what they’re going to get Hermione for her birthday because it’s coming up in fifteen days, he can huddle close with Blaise and make jokes about how stupid Pansy and Hermione are being, even though Blaise and Theo are also being stupid. The absolute best part is being able to walk down the halls with Draco. They hold hands now,  _ in public!  _ Sure, people give them strange looks, but people always give Harry strange looks and he never cares about them anyways. Besides, most of the time he’s too busy hanging on to every word Draco is saying like the lovesick puppy Ron claims that he is.

It really is great.

But every good thing comes with a bad side.

And the bad side just so happens to be the Slytherins spotting Ron and Harry three feet from the Fat Lady and  _ dragging  _ them to the library. 

Theo and Blaise are the only ones who aren’t violent with him, probably because they’re flirting in herbology terms, which is disgusting, and Neville thinks so too because when the two Slytherins sit across from him, Neville just rolls his eyes and switches seats with Millie. 

“Someone’s jealous.” Ron whispers, loud enough for only Pansy and Harry to hear.

Well, that’s what they think until Neville glares at Ron. “Keep talking and I’ll do the fire flower project  _ by myself.” _

They quickly shut their mouths. Professor Sprout doesn’t pick favorites, unless you have eyes, because anyone within a mile of the castle can see that she’d do  _ anything  _ for Neville. Pansy laughs next to them, probably because she and Blaise and partners for the insane project because having Theo and Blaise work together just wouldn’t be fair.

Cho, Cedric, and an unwilling William find them before dinner. Despite Madam Pince protesting at the noise, they merge two tables together, which is how, a few hours later, Draco and Hermione find them.

At some point the twins have shown up, dragging Lee Jordan and Kenneth Towler with them. Ginny, looking for her brothers, ends up sitting with Luna, Astoria and one of Cedric’s Huffles who Harry thinks is named Leslie. Of course, that required another table to be added to their growing long table, much to Madam Pince’s annoyance. She got even more annoyed when Daphne Greengrass showed up looking for her sister and ended up joining the table as well. By the time Draco and Hermione stumble in the lot of them have nearly taken over the majority of the right side of the library.

“You’re….studying?” Hermione asks, looking with wide eyes at Ron as though the boy has grown another head.

Draco leans forward to take Harry’s temperature.

“Hey! I  _ do  _ study, you know.”

“I made them come.” Pansy tells the two, “Millie and I didn’t wanna deal with  _ that  _ by ourselves.”

They all look down to watch the Blaise and Theo pining show. Theo’s blushing slightly, Blaise is giggling at something he’s said, and to make matters worse, their herbology book is all but forgotten. 

“Dear Godric, they’re worse than Harry and Draco.”

“Hey!”

Thursday morning brings Astronomy at the ungodly hour of  _ three in the morning.  _ Morgana is  _ very  _ unhappy with him and demands to come because he’s warm and she’s bored. Harry’s been told that he has a free pass to bring her wherever, so he doesn't have a problem bringing her to class and explaining what he’s doing when she asks. The only probably is that him talking to his snake makes some of the Ravenclaws uncomfortable.

Eventually the Patil twins walk up to him and ask what he’s doing.

“I’m talking to Morgana.”

“Morgana?”

He holds up his hand so Morgana can see who’s asking about her. She licks their hands, then turns back to him.  _ “The right one tastes like cinnamon, but the left one tastes like nutmeg.” _

_ “Those are similar, aren’t they? Do you think twins taste alike?” _

_ “Fred and George didn’t.” _

_ “Well, I wouldn’t hold Fred and George to any type of standard. I don’t see that ending well.” _

He looks up to see the twins swooning over how cute his tiny little pet is, which interrupts everyone’s star maps as the Ravenclaws come to investigate because it’s something they haven’t seen before and they simply  _ have  _ to know. The Gryffindors have mostly already met Morgana, but they come over to say hello anyways. Harry wonders briefly if he should be concerned as Professor Sinstra comes over, but she too takes one look at Morgana and instantly falls in love.

“She likes you, Professor, says you smell like honey.”

“Tell her that she is the sweetest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Harry doesn’t get it, but he tells Morgana anyway. His snake wisely says something about people loving small things, and that Harry  _ does  _ get. Morgana is  _ very  _ small, and that somehow makes her even cuter.

Because he had to wake up for a class at  _ three in the morning  _ Harry completely forgets to leave Morgana in his room. He honestly doesn’t notice her until halfway through breakfast, when she complains about smelling Draco and not being able to see him.

Harry doesn't like how anxious she sounds, so he waits outside the Great Hall and waves Draco over.

“What’s wrong-oh! Morgana!”

Draco’s cooing alerts the rest of Harry’s Slytherins, who come to take a peak, and then coo at the baby snake because apparently that’s just what Slytherins do. It’s all fun and games until a small Slytherin second year walks up and tries to peek at Morgana. The second she sees Harry looking at her she dives behind Pansy.

“Emmy.” Pansy turns and looks down at the kid. “Harry doesn’t bite. Do you wanna meet his snake?”

The kid, Emmy, nods, peeking up at Harry again. She takes a step back, looks between Pansy and Draco who both nod, and then at Harry.

“Hello, I’m Harry.” He says.

The kids peeks at Pansy again, who rolls her eyes but smiles. “Hello, Harry, I’m Emilia.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I have a friend here who would like to say hello.” Emilia perks up at that, looking at Harry’s hand expectantly. “This is Morgana.”

_ “This one is tiny.” _ Morgana complains even as she leans forward to sniff at the kid.

_ “Be nice. She’s nervous.” _

_ “She’s not nervous of me, she’s nervous of you! What did you do to her? She’s a child you heathen!” _

_ “I didn’t do anything! I literally just met her.” _

Morgana hisses at him, and for some reason the kid laughs. She looks mortified after the giggle leaves her now covered mouth. “Sorry! I just-I know I don’t understand but she has that look that Mable has whenever I’m in trouble.”

“Who’s Mable?” Draco asks.

“My puppy.”

Harry suddenly has a million questions because he  _ loves  _ dogs, a lot actually, but then Susan Bones is pushing through the group and glaring at them all. “Are you trying to be late-Emmy? What are you doing? You’re gonna be late to Care of Magical Creatures…”

Emilia looks up at Susan with a big smile. “Susie!” She rushes forward, trapping Susan in an expected hug that Susan easily returns. “I got to meet Harry’s snake! Her name is Morgana, like Lady Morgana.”

Susan glares at Harry before smoothing out Emilia’s hair. “That’s wonderful, love, now run along. You mustn’t be late.”

“Yes Susie.” Emilia pouts. “Bye Draco! Bye Pansy! Bye Harry, thank you for letting me meet your snake!”

The second she’s gone Susan glares something nasty at Harry. “If my cousin gets detention for being late you’re bailing her out, got it?” She looks to the four Perfects standing around, who all quickly nod. “Good. Now let’s get to class.”

Harry gives Draco a quick kiss goodbye that’s cut short by Susan dragging Harry by his robes to the Defense classroom. She drills him about Morgana, yes she does soften when Morgana meets her and cowers under her gaze. Susan may be a Huffle, but there’s no denying the power she wields.  _ Blasie  _ is scared of her, and whoever strikes fear into Blaise’s stone cold heart strikes terror into him. 

They make it to Defense roughly one minute before the bell rings. It doesn't go unnoticed by Umbridge.

“Running in the halls? I hope not, it would be most unfortunate if Perfects were caught doing such outlandish actions…” She looks them over like they’re scum, but gives Susan a pass. “Ten points from Gryffindor. Take your seats, please.”

Harry opens his mouth to complain about how that’s not fucking fair, but Hermione steps on his foot to cut him off and drags him to an empty seat before he can recover. 

_ “That woman is a bitch.”  _ Morgana tells him. 

_ “I’ll say-” _

“Mister Potter!” He looks up to see Umbridge looking at him with horror. “Just  _ what  _ do you think you’re doing?! Pets are  _ not  _ allowed in class!”

“Actually, professor, Morgana is my emotional support pet. I have a note from Madam Pomphrey, a Mind Healer, the headmaster, and my guardians that says I’m allowed to bring her with me everywhere.”

“An emotional support pet? Mister Potter, if you’re facing a difficult time with your emotions I recommend medication and one-on-one sessions, not something that will disrupt my class time.”

Harry’s not sure what to say to that, but literally all of his friends are giving him that look that begs him not to say anything stupid so he keeps his mouth shut.

Or he does until Umbridge approaches him with a glass container. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to put that... _ thing  _ in here so it doesn’t distract you during the lesson.”

Harry takes one look at the container, a look at Morgana, and a look at Umbridge. Hermione sighs from behind him.

“Um, no.”

_ “Excuse me?” _

“Well, you see, professor,” Harry begins, channeling Pansy so he has a better chance of pissing Umbridge off, “My  _ snake  _ is not a toy to put in a box where she can’t breathe for two hours. Furthermore, I have permission from people  _ above you  _ to keep her on me at all times.” Harry takes a deep breath, trying to look as innocent as possible. “It’s to keep me calm, you understand.”

Umbridge narrows her eyes. “And why wouldn’t you be calm in my classroom, Mister Potter?”

“Maybe because I don’t trust Defense teachers. They have a nasty habit of trying to kill me.”

Ron pinches his arm, but Umbridge is being a colossal bitch and Harry’s just getting started. Behind Umbridge’s ugly pink jacket Susan is giving him a death glare, signaling him to  _ shut the fuck up  _ but he’s not going to be outdone by an asshole. He’s just  _ not. _

“You’ll notice that our work is all theoretical this year-”

“And that just makes it more suspicious-”

_ “Mister Potter!  _ You  _ will not  _ interrupt me in my own classroom!” Umbridge shrieks. She takes a moment to smooth down her clothing. “There is  _ no need  _ for the use of spells in a magical school!”

Harry blinks at her. She does know what she just said, right? That’s like...the biggest contradiction he’s ever heard. For Godric’s sake. How are they supposed to get  _ good  _ at magic if they can’t use it at home  _ or  _ at school? How small, exactly, is this women’s brain?

Hermione kicks his chair, begging him not to do it, but  _ oh  _ she’s asking for it. And Harry is a mature fifteen year old who gives people what they ask for.

“When do we  _ need _ to use magic then?”

_ “Never!” _

Hermione pauses her kicking to suck in air, Ron gives up on distracting Harry and just stares at Umbridge like the rest of the class is doing.

“So you’re saying that we, wizards and witches, should never use magic? What if something like the Dementor Attacks this summer happens again-”

“That was an unfortunate occurrence!”

“-I mean we’re clearly on the brink of a war-”

“Mister Potter!”

“-and if we can’t use magic we’re just going to die! Are you saying you’d rather have your students killed by-”

_ “Mister Potter! Shut your mouth this instant!  _ I cannot  _ believe  _ your actions in this room today! You  _ will  _ hand over your-your  _ thing  _ and you  _ will  _ cease arguing with an adult!  _ Or else!” _

Harry raises a singular eyebrow at her, just like all his friends do when they’re threatening someone. 

“No.”

_ “Excuse me?!”  _ Umbridge shrieks. Ron is back to pinching him and Hermione is  _ clearly  _ trying to leave her foot imprinted on his back. Neville and Susan are going to murder him if his best friends don’t beat them to it.

“I  _ said  _ no. You don’t control me, and frankly, I think your opinions are useless.”

Umbridge blinks at him.  _ “That. Is. It.  _ Get out! Right this instant! I don’t want to see your face until your detention tomorrow night! Go report to your head of house and Get Out!  _ OUT!” _

Harry gathers his things, winking at his enraged friends as he quickly exits. 

_ “Are we going to see Minerva?”  _ Morgana asks.

_ “Maybe.” _

They don’t have much else to do. He still has like an hour and a half before lunch, all the other houses are in class except for the Ravens, but he’s not as friendly with anyone there. He considers going down to the kitchens, and starts to head that way only for Snape to find him.

“Mister Potter. Where exactly do you think you’re going?”

Harry jumps, looking over his shoulder at the Potion’s Master. Morgana lifts her head higher to hiss as Snape, though it’s more friendly than angry.

“Professor Snape! I was just, um, you know, on my way to Professor McGonagall’s office!”

Snape raises an eyebrow, doing a much better job than Harry did. “Funny. I recall Minerva’s office being on the third floor, not down the stairs…”

And that’s exactly how Harry finds himself being led to McGonagall’s office by Snape. 

The asshole knocks twice on McGonagall’s door, forcing Harry though first before he follows.

There’s an awkward moment. McGonagall stares at Snape, who sits and stares right back, then they both look at Harry, sigh at the same time, look back to each other, and then sigh again. McGonagall gestures to the empty seat.

“Potter….tell me you’re not already in trouble. It’s not even the end of the first week!”

“It’s not my fault-”

“Oh I assure you it is.” Snape grumbles.

“It is not!”

_ “Potter.”  _ McGonagall warns.

Harry sighs, but resigns himself to his fate and starts from the beginning. When his tale is over, Snape actually looks  _ amused,  _ but McGonagall…

“Harry, I know she’s bound to push your buttons, and that you’re prone to sticking your nose where it’s dangerous to be, so I ask, no  _ implore  _ you to leave her alone. Didn’t you listen to Dumbledore’s speech?”

“Um...kinda?” No, no he did not. He literally tuned in for the first sentence and then got bored and started thinking about the goodies Kreecher sent him. “I didn’t need to listen to him, and I don’t want to listen to her. My family doesn't like her so I was already wary, but after being in a room with her I’m fairly sure I hate her.”

Snape sighs, but without his usual malice. He just seems tired. “The hatred towards her unfortunately cannot do anything to hurt her. She is here under the Minister’s orders, and we understand that you are  _ physically incapable  _ of remaining out of trouble…”

“Are you telling me to be careful?”

McGonagall nods. “She’s already after you because Lucius got you off this summer.”

“I thought she’d be more offended by Remus.”

“Remus? What does he have to- _ oh.  _ Werewolf.” Snape sighs again. “Potter, do  _ not,  _ I repeat,  _ do not  _ raise to her bait. It will only end bad for you.”

Funnily enough, Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell the mean old Potions Master that he already has. As far as Snape knows, Harry just got kicked out of class. McGonagall will be aware of his detention before the end of the day, but what Snape doesn’t know can’t hurt him. It could be how tired the man sounds, or it could be because he’s Draco’s godfather and Draco adores him, but Harry just can’t see how adding to whatever Snape’s stressed about would be helpful.

His friends, however, have other ideas.

By the time Harry leaves McGonagall’s office lunch is halfway over and all of his friends are pissed. Draco storms up to the Gryffindor table before Harry’s had the chance to sit down.

_ “Detention?  _ Within the first week?!”

“She was being a bitch!”

“That doesn't mean you egg her on!”

“Guys.” Blaise eases a hand on both of their shoulders. “You’re making a scene.”

“No, we’re making an exit.” Draco tells him. He proceeds to drag the six of them out of the Great Hall and down to the Gang’s Room.

Ron is not happy about missing lunch so the Slytherins can yell at Harry, even if he does agree that Harry was being stupid.

“It’s just detention, I’ve had like thousands of those!”

“I am going to murder you.” Draco informs him, even as they hold hands and walk to double Potions.

Because Draco’s still mad at him, he partners with Hermione. Snape smirks at the decision, but proceeds to teach in his normal manor. Meaning he’s cold and mean, but at least he doesn't take any house points. Harry thinks it’s a new record, having a Potions class where Gryffindors don’t lose a single point.

Friday drags on slowly. All of his friends are still somewhat mad at him, though it’s probably because he’s being stubborn about it. They don’t like it when he’s reckless, and apparently yelling at a teacher he  _ knows  _ is there to spy on Hogwarts constitutes being reckless. Because of this Charms is a nightmare, he ends up hiding from everyone during his second period break, spends lunch chatting with Morgana, and finally, when lunch is over, leaves the library to go flying.

Draco’s spending his time with Pomphrey as her new medical aid, so he’ll have to be careful not to get injured because then Draco would get even  _ more  _ angry with him. There’s nothing Draco hates more than Harry being dumb and reckless. In two days they’ll be back to snogging whenever they get the chance, but for now Draco is stubbornly denying him everything but rants about how rash he’s being.

Harry doesn't care.

Harry is in the right here and they’ll all see that soon enough.

At eight o’clock, two hours before curfew, Harry finds himself at Umbridge’s ugly pink door. 

Best to get this over with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Fair warning, this chapter is through Harry's pov and the next chapter is going to start off with Draco's opinion of the week. It's not gonna be a repeat of classes and all that, but it'll highlight things he thinks about verses what Harry focuses on. Anyways, here's to giving Umbridge hell!
> 
> Harry: I'm fully prepared for the year  
> Sirius, holding Harry's broom he forgot in the hallway: Sure.  
> Harry: I am now fully prepared for the year  
> Remus, with Harry's homework, bag, and blanket he left around the house: Uh Huh.
> 
> Emmy, a sweet little angel:  
> Emmy, also Pansy's disciple: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are fucking
> 
> Blaise and Theo: flirting  
> Neville: this is an insult to every plant known to humankind
> 
> Pansy: I refuse to suffer pining shows alone  
> Also Pansy, pining after Hermione:
> 
> Umbridge, being a bitch:  
> The entire class: please don't-  
> Harry, about to wreck the bitch's world: what if i-
> 
> Snape: Maybe this year will be calm  
> McGonagall: You're right, it's just a Ministry Employee.  
> Snape: She's probably not even the Dark Lord this time.  
> Harry: *breathes*  
> Snape and McGonagall: god damnit 
> 
> Harry: I get to kiss my boyfriend whenever I want!  
> Harry, after getting detention: I get to kiss my boyfriend whenever HE wants!


	14. sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “See, the ‘s’ stands for no, the ‘e’ means no, and the ‘x’ means-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for abuse flashbacks, abuse from teachers, depression, bullying, and a chance at being sad

Draco’s having the best time of his life. 

The entire first week back is bliss, well, kinda.

On the one hand, having some of his house hate him for his loyalties sucks. The hushed mummers, glaring, and cold shoulders get old quickly. Having to put up with nosey first and second years who don’t quite get why Slytherin has a bad rep is...not fun. His personal favorite is having to threaten Crabbe and Goyle within an inch of their lives after finding them trying to pick on first year Damion for not understanding why asking the Hufflepuffs a question is a bad thing. Draco then has to find the kid, calm him down, get him over the ridiculous notion that  _ Draco  _ is going to hurt him, and assure him that being friends with other houses is fine. 

Does he have the time for this? Absolutely not, but he does it anyways.

In all honesty, he doesn’t like the dirty looks people have started to give his house. Yeah, nearly all of the Slytherins are related to at least one of the Escaped Death Eaters, but why does it matter? The only people stupid enough to try anything at  _ Hogwarts  _ are Crabbe and Goyle, and quite frankly, neither of them have that type of magical power. Plus, Draco and Pansy have made it  _ very  _ clear that the two of them are underwatch. Draco’s kinda hoping they’ll step one big fat toe out of line so he can take them down. Peacefully, of course, though if their noses get broken he can totally pass it off as an accident. 

Speaking of breaking body parts, Draco’s  _ shocked  _ to find the sign up sheet for the Slytherin Quidditch team growing every time he checks it. Try-outs are held until the second week of September, and usually there’s ten people max who have the time, energy, and willingness to commit to sports. He loves his house, he does, but Slytherins typically don’t like getting physical unless it’s sexual. They’re all posh little pricks who love to watch the few that  _ do  _ like to play. So, the ever growing list he now has to deal with is a bit of a shock. Hopefully it’s mostly first years, at the rate they’re going try-outs are gonna be  _ long.  _

He’s still not completely convinced that he and his friends are safe. Blaise called him mental when he charmed the door to their room with wards strong enough to contain his father. But Draco merely pointed out that no one really knows a Death Eater until it’s too late and that shut Blaise up real quick. He offered to do the same for Theo, but apparently Pansy already warded his room, and the girl’s room, of course, with the same stuff. Maybe they went a little overkill when they got together to charm the common room, but hey. At least they’ll know when someone is up to something now. Perfect for personal  _ and  _ Perfect reasons, even if it is  _ technically,  _ according to Millie, a violation of privacy. 

It’s how he caught on to Crabbe and Goyle’s bullying on Wednesday, which was enough for Millie to stop complaining.

All bad things aside, Umbridge included, Draco’s still having a blast. More fun than he’s ever had at Hogwarts, actually, and it’s all because a certain cute idiot nearly died last year.

Said cute idiot who beams whenever Draco looks his way. Who meets him in little nooks and crannies for kisses and heated snogging sessions. Who has impacted Draco’s life  _ so much  _ he doesn't even have words for it. 

They’re all happier, actually. Now that he’s thinking about it, it’s not just Harry who’s impacted them. It’s the whole lot of  _ everyone  _ impacting each other.

Pansy’s usually great at concealing her unhappy smiles, but she’s coming up on a new record of a full week without faking it. She plots with the twins, coos at Ginny and Luna, teams up with Hermione when she thinks no one is looking, helps Harry in Charms, walks arm-in-arm with Ron, he even caught her and Millie trying to design a tux themed after aconites for Theo.

Blaise may think that he’s playing it cool, but Draco’s never seen him so invested in others. Sure, he’s always cared for Draco and Pansy but…. There’s no denying it. He glares at anyone who looks at Harry funny, makes sure Hermione’s quills are up to his standards, goes out of his way to keep Neville included in every conversation, supports Ron even when he’s doing something stupid, asks Luna about her more loony theories, braids Millie’s hair, makes Ginny a hair-tye without blinking an eyelash. Draco even caught him working on an investment plan for the twins, and the way he is with Theo….Draco certainly hopes  _ he  _ does look that gone when he looks at Harry.

He probably does, and honestly, he doesn't mind that much.

For the longest time, since they were five years old, really, it’s just been the three of them. Draco, Pansy, and Blaise. The three musketeers. From five until they die. They’ve always had each other’s back, always known what to say and do, it’s always just  _ worked  _ with them, and they never needed, or really  _ wanted,  _ anyone else. Having each other was always more than enough.

They still do, of course.

Blasie cuddles with him and LuLu, lets him rant until ungodly hours of the night about Poppy’s Back to School assignments or Ellios’s theories and how they align with his beloved Bedfoot. He makes sure Draco eats enough throughout the day, helps him prepare for the headache Quidditch is going to bring, and when Draco inevitably falls asleep in History, Blaise charms his quill to keep writing.

Pansy still greets him in the morning with a hug. She makes sure his clothes are good, they keep up their little competitions in Charms and Transfiguration. She and Winky have taken to bringing him snacks when he’s up late studying, which he often is even though it’s only the first week back. They run crazy ideas past each other and work out a system for what to do if  _ another  _ first year corners them with tears again. During their Perfect duties, they walk arm-in-arm, chatting about nothing and everything in between.

They’re still his best friends. They still mean the world to each other. They would still drop everything, do  _ anything  _ for each other. Them having  _ more  _ doesn’t mean they care for each other less.

If anything, Draco’s secretly glad they’ve added more people into their lives. Or, more accurately, that people barged in and didn’t let them get away. 

He’s never had so many friends before. Not  _ real  _ ones, at least. And, call him a giant sap, but Draco quite likes it.

Even if his dumb, insanely gifted, beautiful, talented, and  _ stupid  _ boyfriend gets detention before the first week is over.

He and Poppy are talking about right now, actually.

“It’s good to see you branching out.” She tells him as they prepare Freddie for nightly doll torturing. “You’re too bright to be sticking around the same people, and while I  _ do  _ have opinions about you sneaking away to snog your boyfriend, I’m still happy for you.”

Draco fixes the hospital pillow one last time. “I’m not  _ always  _ sneaking around to snog Harry. Besides, I’m not making friends for political allies for once and...well, it’s nice, I suppose.”

Poppy looks up from her notes, giving him a long, suffering look. “Having friends is  _ nice….. _ it’s almost like you’re a teenager and meant to have a social life.”

“Don’t give me that look, you were a Slytherin! You know  _ exactly  _ what I’m talking about!”

“I know that friendships in that house were stupid and superficial in my day and that I’m pleased to see it’s gotten better, yes, but  _ I  _ was never a fan of using my friends. I was far too kind hearted for such nonsense.”

“A kind hearted Slytherin?” Draco deadpans. They must’ve eaten young Poppy Pomphrey alive.

Poppy doesn’t bother responding. She strides over to the closet on the far side of the room and drags her weird life-like doll out, floating him onto the bed in front of Draco.

“We’re going to recreate the wounds your friend Theodore Nott had on Freddie and you’re going to walk me through your healing process.”

Draco frowns. “Do we have to? No offense, but it wasn’t exactly...a  _ pleasant  _ experience, and I’m afraid we don’t have a Dark Weapon.”

“Not  _ literally.”  _ Poppy rolls her eyes. “I don’t care if you’ve done it before, I’m not going to exhaust you on your first week back. Plus, I’m afraid I’ve grown rather fond of dear ol’ Freddie, and I don’t think he could handle such brutality. What I  _ am  _ going to do is use your memory to create artificial wounds.”

“How?”

Poppy strides over to him and takes out her wand. Draco doesn't flinch because, well, it’s  _ Poppy.  _ He just looks between her and the wand pointed at his face with a bored stare.

“Drop your occlumency shields, Draco.”

“Why-”

“Just trust me.”

Draco gives her a look, but once again, it’s  _ Poppy,  _ so he closes his eyes and starts taking his walls down. It’s easy to put them up. Draco likes to make things, case in point with the medical watch from last year that he’s considering improving, and because of his parents, occlumency comes easily to him. He imagines a fort of sorts. One that closes him in to keep him safe behind mazes and fearsome beasts and thousands upon  _ thousands  _ of brick walls covered in wool because those materials don’t burn. 

Putting walls up is easy.

Taking them down is a whole different thing.

He has to start with those, the possibly excessive walls that surround his mind. Has to imagine thousands of sharp chisels at the right places, has to watch the bricks tumble around him until they’re just rubble and fabric. Has to push it all to the side and let his Veela out to burn down the rest.

It feels like it takes ten minutes, but in actuality, his walls are down in seconds and he can feel Poppy slip into his head.

Her presence isn’t awful, actually. More like a clean, brisk, and sweeping breeze. It reminds Draco of Autumn, and he’s tempted to pull her to safer places, like candied apples and Narcissa’s smiles, but she’s here for a reason so he lets her lead the way to one of his least favorite memories.

They’re in the potions lab, he and Winky are chatting and he’s cursing at the damn Rightness Potion because it’s  _ difficult.  _ He sees Winky leave, sees her come back with blood on her hands. Feels his panic, the dread, the confusion as Winky brings him to the front gate and then he’s left staring at Theo, half-dead, definitely broken, and crumpled outside the Malfoy gates all over again. He thinks Poppy is going to make him relive it all, going to make him witness the  _ exhaustion  _ that overcame him during Theo’s healing, but instead the memory stops with Theo laid out on the bed, all his wounds out in the open. It stays frozen for a  _ long  _ time, so long Draco wonders if it’s him or Poppy keeping them there, and then, just like it was nothing at all, the breeze is gone and Draco’s opening his eyes.

He’s never seen Poppy look like this before.

Worried? Yeah, she  _ is  _ the mediwitch at the school  _ Harry Potter  _ goes to. Proud? Of course, she has  _ Draco  _ as a pupil. Angry? Too many times to count. Tired? Nearly every day.

This expression isn’t something Draco can place.

But before he can wonder about it, Poppy pulls him in for a brief hug. It’s over before Draco can react to it. He thinks he might have imagined it because Poppy is acting like it didn't happen, already mummering spells with her wand on Freddie, but it  _ did  _ happen and Draco’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Wipe that grin off your face and tell me how you did it.”

“Oh-right!”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  


Harry is like, bare minimum, a hundred percent sure that Aunt Petunia and Dolores Umbridge have never met, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re basically the same person. He hasn’t had much time to think on it, but he knows he’s right because it all boils down to the fact that Aunt Petunia is a muggle who thinks Wizards need to be put down and Umbridge would probably support the Dark Lord in killing muggles if it wouldn’t land her in Azkaban. Same mindset, different types of hate groups, sure, but it’s literally the same thought process of not liking someone and wanting them to die. 

Also their apparent shared hatred for Harry, but that’s besides the point.

The point is that Harry walks into Umbridge’s office and stops cold in his tracks because the belt looks weird in Umbridge’s tiny hands. It’s small and white and reminds Harry  _ way  _ too much of Aunt Petunia’s belt. The last time he’d seen a belt like that in tiny hands of a person who very clearly did not like him, he’d gotten beat with it. A small voice in the back of his head reasons that corporal punishment is not allowed on school grounds, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s looking at something that makes him feel awful.

“Oh! Late, I see. It’s  _ rude  _ to stare.” Umbridge informs him. “I’ll add fifty lines for that, and one more for ogling my gift from the Minister.”

Air rushes back into Harry’s lungs.

_ Lines. _

He’s just writing lines.

That’s….boring actually. He’s like fifteen! Detentions are usually  _ way  _ cooler than this! For Godric’s sake, can’t he like clean her weird cat plates or something? Even Snape has better things to do than make them write lines. Seriously, detentions are a great way to get free manual labor, doesn’t she know that?

Harry’s about to make a comment to point this out, but then the image of Ron scowling at him comes to mind. And, yeah, his friends are probably right. He probably  _ is  _ a little rash sometimes, so he just sighs and brings out his supplies.

“No need for that.” Umbridge says, scowling at Harry’s quill. “That’s not nearly good enough.”

Godric above, she really is like Aunt Petunia. Well, her body shape reminds Harry more of Vernon, but the attitude is Aunt Petunia to a T. Maybe if his relatives had a girl instead of Dudley she would’ve looked like this. Umbridge may be the same age, but he’s fully convinced that she’s secretly Petunia and Vernon's long lost child. 

Harry shakes his head to clear it. He’s nearly  _ polite  _ to her! Old habits really do die hard, huh? “What am I supposed to write with then?”

Smiles, Harry’s learned, are meant to be  _ happy.  _ Draco’s is down right stunning, Ron’s always makes him feel safe, Hermione smiles like he images a mum smiling, of course Narcissa and Mrs. Weasley have different smiles, so does the rest of his extended family, but at the end of the day all of their smiles make him warm and happy on the inside. Even when Blaise is being a shitter and Pansy is teasing him. 

Umbridge’s smile is not nice. It doesn’t make him feel warm and happy. She smiles like Aunt Petunia smiles before beating him. It’s cold and cruel, spreading over her face like the sudden cold feeling seeping down Harry’s spine.

Basilisk, he reminds himself. He’s friends with a Basilisk. He can control snakes. He’s survived Voldemort like ten times by now. His family stems from a dude that literally was so feared his nickname was Death. For Godric’s sake, just last month he faced ten Dementors.

She’s not even  _ that  _ similar to Aunt Petunia, and you know, he  _ might,  _ maybe, possibly be a little overly cautious around petite white suburban mums because of said evil aunt, but Umbridge isn’t his aunt. She’s not even petite. 

So why the hell is he suddenly filled with dread?

“You’ll use one of my….special quills.”

Oh. 

Okay.

Weird, but whatever. 

Harry’s a little confused, but he sums it up to weird fetishes. Maybe Umbridge is just  _ super picky  _ about penmanship? Fred once said he knew a guy who’s into wax, whatever that means. He was too afraid to ask after the whole food fetish discovery. Harry honestly worries more for the twins’ curiosity than their pranks. For the most part, the pranks are harmless, but one day they’re going to come across something sexual that scars them for life. If they keep looking at the weird books Sirius thinks he’s hidden in the library at home, that sentiment is more literal than Harry would like to deal with. 

Umbridge hands him a black quill with a long red stem, which is  _ way  _ too gothic for her pink-obsessed theme, but Harry’s more confused and a little, just a tad bit, nervous for some strange reason, so he doesn't say anything. Just sits, stares, and waits for what he’s supposed to write.

“For your earlier comment regarding my opinions,” Umbridge’s smile widening makes him even more uneasy, “You’ll be writing ‘I am useless’.”

What the fuck? 

Isn’t that, oh, Harry doesn’t know, a little on the bullying side? Sure, Snape calls them all useless at least once a year, but it’s usually after a potion mishap. Last time Harry checked, he got a little cheeky. Personally, he doesn’t feel like this is fair, but it’s also just lines, and he’s pretty good about writing and not thinking. He does it all the time in Divination. Also, the sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can go back to his common room and hang out with his friends, so he bites back a probably unnecessary comment.

“How many times?”

“I originally was going to say a hundred, but now I do believe you’ll be writing until curfew. Perhaps this will make you  _ learn  _ the respect you’re so clearly lacking.”

Godric he wants to hit her. More than he wanted to hit Candice, actually. 

But, because he’s still very uneasy and not in the mood to fight with dread still clinging to his spine, Harry lifts the quill to write.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Draco makes it back ten minutes before curfew.

Typically there’s not a whole lot of people in the common room this late. By now people have moved on from studying to take showers, or just taken their books to their beds. The Slytherins apparently have the comfiest couches, but beds are always better. Maybe a few older and younger students linger, still trying to make things make sense or playing around.

When Draco steps in, he’s met with Pansy and a few first years, the two older students, Adaline and Flint, watch with poorly concealed amusement.

_ “Please!  _ I need to know for when I grow up and get married.” Emilia is saying, hugging a big stuffed butterfly to her chest.

Pansy shakes her head. “I’m not telling you about that. If you want to learn you’ll have to ask Pomphrey.”

“Ask Madam?!” Emilia’s friend, Jessica, exclaims. “We can’t do that! She’s an  _ adult.” _

“Yes, and that means she’s much more experienced than I am-oh! Draco!”

Pansy bolts from the floor, rushing up to stand by his side. She grabs his hand harshly. A clear plea to save him from what’s happening.

Neither of them are comforted by the gleam in little Eric’s eyes. “Mister Draco works with Madam…”

“For the last time, it’s either Malfoy or Draco. Stop this mister shit, I’m not old!”

Emilia brings her gaggle of friends over to them, Adaline and Flint set down their books to watch, and suddenly Draco wishes he’d taken more time getting back.

“Mister Draco,” Emilia begins, all sweet and innocent. Draco’s not buying it. “How do we have sex?”

Draco’s not sure what type of face he’s making, but it’s enough for Flint and Adaline to laugh. Pansy’s shaking next to him. Draco just wants the floor to open up and swallow him. Why isn’t there a spell for that? There should definitely be a spell for that.

“Sex?” He asks once the shock has faded. “You’re-you’re  _ twelve.  _ Why the hell-”

“You said we could ask you anything! And we can’t go to  _ Snape  _ with this!”

He’s surrounded by five second years begging for information, and Draco’s really at his wits end. Couldn’t they come to him with anything, literally  _ anything  _ else. He’d rather plan out how to escape Riddle than deal with this. 

Pansy squeezes his hand. 

Draco sighs.

“You want to know about sex?”

“Yes!” “Please!” “I can’t be  _ unprepared!” _

“Well….” A small smile breaks across Draco’s face. “Sex is a three letter word, typically one assumes it involves intercourse, but a little known fact is that it’s actually an acronym.” He takes immense joy in their frowning faces. “See, the ‘s’ stands for no, the ‘e’ means no, and the ‘x’ means-”

“Mister Draco! That isn’t what we-”

“It  _ better  _ have been what you meant.” He turns his face stern, looking them all in the eyes so they know how serious this is. “I understand you’re all just beginning puberty, but the fact is that you’re all  _ twelve.  _ And you shouldn’t be worrying about this so early. You’re all  _ far  _ too young. I have medical facts I can give you, but I refuse to give you any other information. Fifth years are getting a lecture on it tomorrow, you’ll get one too your fifth year, and until then, just... _ don’t.  _ There’s a lot to be worrying about and I can’t have my Slytherins getting hurt because they were focused on something unimportant.”

The group of them look guilty at each other, Pansy squeezes his hand again. Apparently he’s struck some sort of nerve.

“Did something happen?”

Glances are exchanged. After a moment Emilia steps forward, wringing her hands, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Emmy,” Pansy says softly. “It’s best if he hears it from one of you.”

Emilia peeks up at them both and Draco’s struck all over again by how  _ small  _ she is. She’s smaller than Druella, and much more timid. Sure, she has a wild streak, and hanging around Pansy isn’t helping, but Emilia is still… She’s only five three, at best. Her hair is long and the color of Draco’s coffee after he adds ten pounds of creme and sugar in it. Eyes still innocent, big and round, even as she looks between the floor and Draco. Small, fragile, and one of his Slytherins now. One of the people he’s responsible for. And, if he’s honest, he’s a little protective of the younger Slytherins. How can he not be?

They’re all so  _ tiny.  _

Emilia hugs the butterfly stuffie closer to her chest. 

“It’s Connor….he...well.”

Connor...Connor? Draco wracks his brain until he places the name and the face together. Connor Smith. Second year, not related to that Zacharias Smith kid who gives Draco a headache. Tall for his age, weirdly skinny, doesn't talk much. 

“What happened?” Draco demands.

Adaline and Flint come to stand behind the small kids who glance between them and the Slytherins Perfects in front them.

“It’s okay.” Adaline says. Draco’s hasn’t heard much from her, just enough to know she’s not awful. “You can trust Malfoy.”

“He’s a good one, he can help, and if anyone can relate it’s gonna be him.” Flint adds.

Draco is now not only confused, but worried as well.

“I will not ask again. Tell me what happened.  _ Now.” _

Emilia jumps at his voice, Pansy pinches him for being scary, and then Draco’s rooted to the floor by Emilia’s tear filled eyes.

“It’s not his fault! He didn’t even-he was just  _ sitting there!  _ He was reading, he’s  _ always  _ reading, he never bothers anyone and they-they were so  _ mean  _ to him! And I know we’re Slytherins so people are  _ always  _ mean to us but he didn’t even-”

“A group of Ravenclaws,” Pansy whispers in his ear. “Apparently, Smith isn’t Connor’s last name. He’s actually Connor Rockwood, his dad is one of the escaped Death Eaters. One of the ravens found out and it got...ugly. I tried to find him when Emmy told me but he’s locked everyone out of his room.”

He looks at the guilty and sad group in front of him and takes a deep breath. Then he channels the energy of every sibling he’s ever known, the twins and Ron in particular.

“Hey. Calm down, Emmy. I’ll talk to him, okay?”

Emilia nods, tears dripping down her cheek. 

“In the future,” Draco addresses the group, even Adaline and Flint, “You come get me or Pansy immediately. I don’t care if we’re in the middle of class, you  _ find  _ us. Got it?”

There’s a choir of ‘yes sir’s before Jessica steps forward.

“I know we’re too young to worry about... _ stuff.”  _ She blushes at the implication, “It was my fault that we were talking about it, not Emmy’s. I thought, well, we could all use a laugh after that, and I just blurted the first thing that came to mind. I promise we’re not, you know... _ curious.”  _ Her face is the color of an apple by the end of it, but she’s still looking at the floor like she too wishes it would swallow her up.

Draco sighs. “I’m not mad. It’s natural to be curious, but  _ seriously.  _ Don’t ask me stuff like that unless you want to be embarrassed, got it?”

The second years all nod, Adaline and Flint are  _ clearly  _ holding back laughter. The seventh years start corralling the young ones into their doorooms while Pansy holds him back.

“How bad was it?” He asks as soon as they’re gone.

Pansy has actual  _ visible  _ worry lines on her perfectly maintained face. “Pretty bad. From what I understand, it was just taunts about his father at first. He ignored them, didn’t lift a finger, even when it got violent.”

“Violent?!”

“He…” Pansy looks around, making sure they’re completely alone, “Someone threw a fex hexes at him. Got him pretty good on his arm, Flint said he was bruised pretty bad, but when I went to break his door down Emilia stopped me. They were all pretty shaken up….I don’t- what are we going to do, Draco? We can’t let this keep happening. Teasing is natural but things are starting to get serious. We can’t turn a blind eye if they keep going after Slytherins who are related to Death Eaters.”

Draco runs a hand down her arm. “It’s only happened once so far. I’ll talk to Cho and Cedric tomorrow, get a handle on it.”

“What if that’s enough?”

“Then we’ll go from there.”

Pansy gives him a long, hard, searching look. “You’re already planning something, aren’t you?”

“You know me too well.”

“Go check on Connor,” Pansy huffs, “I can manage alone tonight.”

Draco gives her a brief kiss as a thank you, then he slides into his room to put his bag down, running a hand through his hair because this year is going to be  _ so  _ stressful.

“What’s going on?”

He ignores Blaise for the time being, calling Winky instead.

She pops into the room with a bow, “Master be wanting his nightly coco?”

“No-well, yes, actually, but I need a favor.”

“I am master’s elf.” Winky rolls her eyes, “I be doing whatever Master wants.”

Draco pointedly ignores her sarcasm, “I need you to bring me two hot cocos, one of them regular, and meet me in Connor Smith’s room. If I’m in there you should be able to get in too, but give it about ten minutes, okay?”

“Yes sir!”

Winky pops away. Draco turns to his other best friend who’s clinging to LuLu, his favorite cuddle buddy.

“Blaise, give me my Kneazle.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

Draco sighs. “Slytherins are being bullied.”

“That’s not new, is it? Tell me you’re not going to turn it into a mission, Harry’s savior complex is rubbing off on you.”

“Someone hexed a second year because his dad escaped, and I dunno if you’ve ever  _ seen  _ Connor Smith but-”

“Kid’s as nice as they come. Loves Care of Magical Creatures, is a  _ huge  _ fan of Hagrid, plus he reads muggle comics, not exactly the Death Eater type.” Blaise nods.

Draco’s so happy the three of them were raised by nosey people. Between Blaise’s observance, Pansy’s connection knowledge, and Draco’s host training they never miss a thing. Sometimes it’s annoying to know nearly everyone, but it comes in handy every now and then. 

“Exactly. Now give me LuLu.”

LuLu makes the decision for both of them, wiggling out of Blaise’s arm so she can come and meow at him until he picks her up. She proceeds to bump her head against his chest and purr. Blaise frowns.

“She loves me, I know for a  _ fact  _ that she does.”

“I’m still her favorite.” Draco says as he walks out the door.

The issue with the Slytherin dungeons is that it’s  _ big.  _ Huge, actually, seeing that there’s several floors for them all, and because most people in Slytherin come from wealthy families, every room is big. There is no distinct floor set in place for years. Typically, whatever floor is vacant is where the first years go and that’s their room until they graduate. Unless you’re Theo, that kid’s been in three different rooms, which is  _ crazy  _ to Draco, but whatever.

At the bottom level, three floors down from the common room, is where the Seventh Years are. There’s only five of them in total, if Draco’s right, Flint and Cassius are sharing and the girls all have different rooms, but he’s honestly never cared enough to find out. It’s too quiet for him down there, though they have one of the best views of the lake because they can see nearly  _ everything  _ from down there. Fifth years got the spot right in the middle, which Draco likes because it’s not as cold, but they’re far enough below the shoreline that morning light doesn’t bother him. Plus, the middle of the lake is where most of the creatures are, and Draco  _ loves  _ studying in his room and looking up to see a weird looking fish swimming by. It also helps that his dorm room is only a few steps down versus a whole flight of stairs. Second years somehow got placed on the floor closest to the shoreline, so Draco has to go up a few floors to find them. 

He uses the ‘point me’ spell to find the right door, and then knocks.

Naturally, no one answers, so Draco knocks again.

By the third knock there’s finally a reply.

“Go away.”

“Open the door or I’ll give you detention.”

There’s a lot of swearing, some fumbling about, and then the door creaks open and Connor peaks out. Honey eyes glare at him, which is pretty much what he had been expecting.

“What do you want?” The kid asks, then adds ‘sir’ as an afterthought.

Draco shoves his way into the door, rolling his eyes when Connor backs up in fear. He hates to be creepy, but he also knows the value of privacy, so he shuts the door behind him.

“Sit down. We’re having a talk.”

“About what?” Connor eyes him, clearly suspicious, but sits on the edge of his bed all the same. Draco takes the chair at the kid’s desk and places it right in front of him before sitting down himself.

“I heard about what happened.”

“Of course you did...fucking Emmy…”

_ “Language.”  _ Draco snaps. He feels uncomfortably like Severus at the moment. “Don’t be mad at Emilia, she’s just trying to help.”

“She’s going to get hurt if she keeps sticking her nose in other people’s business- is that a cat?”

Draco looks down at LuLu, who’s still sitting in his lap but sniffing curiously at the kid. Connor seems  _ very  _ pleased by the sudden appearance of an animal, and Draco is not above using that to his advantage.

“I’ll make you a deal: you can pet LuLu here if I can look at your arm.”

Connor’s face, previously alight with joy, shuts down. The only emotion Draco can find is the wariness in his eyes.

“No.”

“Let me rephrase then,” Draco shrugs. “You _are_ going to hold LuLu and I _am_ going to look at your arm.”

LuLu meows in agreement, hoping down and striding up to Connor as she demands to be held.

“She’s bossy, it’s best not to disappoint her.” 

“She gets it from her owner.” Connor mumbles. One look at Draco’s face has him scrambling to pick LuLu up and rolling up his sleeve.

Pansy and Flint were right. 

The bruise isn’t from a wand, there’s no magic traces in it. More like a handprint. The burn on his shoulder, on the other hand, seems to be from a poorly executed fire spell. 

Draco suddenly has an urge to march all the way up to the Ravenclaw tower to show the whole lot of them how  _ real  _ fire feels. Veela fire, to be precise. However, he highly doubts Cho and Luna would appreciate that, so he mummers a few healing charms and forces himself to remain calm. 

Connor is quiet for the whole ordeal, running his hands down LuLu’s back and refusing to look at Draco. Stupid idea, really. The whole house knows that when Draco says something is happening, it’s  _ happening,  _ and there isn’t a damn thing anyone can do to stop him. 

When the healing business is done, Draco sits back down and waits for the kid to look at him.

“Do we have to?” Connor whispers.

“It won’t be that bad. I’m not that big of an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole at all, well, maybe to Crabbe and Goyle but they deserve it.”

Draco muffles a chuckle behind a cough. At least the kid is smiling now, a small smile but it’s progress.

“I understand that this is difficult for you, Slytherins are private people, so I’m going to keep this quiet. However, I need to know what happened. If you don’t tell me I’m just going to get it from someone else, and I don’t need to tell you the dangers of second hand information, do I?”

Connor scowls at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We all have to do things we don’t want to.”

“This is different!”

“No it’s not.”

“You don’t even- what do  _ you  _ know? You’re  _ Draco Malfoy.  _ You’re Harry Potter’s boyfriend, a Perfect,  _ and  _ you’re well respected, even by the fucking purists! You’re  _ untouchable!” _

Okay, maybe the kid has a point.

Draco has, half on purpose and half on accident, gotten himself into several positions of power. Firstly, his mum would kill anyone who hurt him, as long as she beat Severus and Lucius to it. The rest of his family isn’t far off from that. Harry, while he doesn’t quite understand yet, is powerful as fuck, and now that Draco thinks about it, Harry is probably the last person someone would want to cross. He’s right up there next to Pansy and Blaise. The Malfoy weight has a  _ lot  _ of weight to it, add a close friendship with a Parkinson and a Zabini and no one stands a chance. 

Family aside, Draco himself isn’t exactly a person to fuck with. He’s killed and somehow the entire Slytherin house knows it. They don’t know  _ how  _ powerful he is, but they can take a fucking guess and no one’s about to try him now that he’s technically in charge of them. 

Draco sighs. Humility is a pain in the ass, but it has its useful moments. And Draco is not above using his past trauma to get his way.

“Look, I get it. You’re dad’s a Death Eater-” Connor flinches. “-but who cares? My dad was in the Inner Circle. Sure he’s reformed, but I’m also related to the Lestranges, in case you forgot, my mum’s sister is Bellatrix.” Draco gauges the amount of information he needs to give, and then makes it seem like more trouble than it really is. “It hasn’t always been easy, and I’ve gone through my fair share of ugly things. I only managed to get this far because I recognized my opportunities when they came to me. If we let people get away with things like this, we’re setting a standard for treatment that’s allowed. Do you understand? Right now I’m offering you a chance to fix it, and if you don’t take it and someone else gets hurt that offer is going to turn into force.”

“So it’s either the nice way or I have to eventually face your anger?” Connor asks, twiddling his thumbs. 

“Exactly.”

The kid thinks on it for a second, and then tells Draco the full story. Connor isn’t sure how they found out, he’s kept it hidden pretty damn well for a long time. But once they knew, they started whispering. On Monday the whispers began, by Wednesday it was taunting, but he kept quiet because it’s just words, nothing worse than what he thinks about his dad, so he couldn’t see the harm. All of it escalated to tonight, where he tried to walk away from the harsh comments, the ones that were no longer about his father but about  _ him.  _ Like he, a twelve year old, wants to hurt anyone. The other Slytherins tried to help him, but he promised it was fine, that he could handle it, which was a mistake. As soon as the others were gone, the Ravens got bolder. Thankfully, only one of them got violent. Managed to grab him as he was leaving the Library. He says the hand was more brutal than the burn, and that Flint walked out just in time to see them and make the Ravens run. 

“Flint wanted me to go see Madam...but I, uh,” Connor scratches the back of his head, “I kinda...ran?”

“You ran?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know.” 

“That was stupid of you.”

“Probably.”

Silence lapse between them, but not for long. Winky pops in with two hot cocos, one for Connor and another one for Draco. 

“Thank you, Winky.”

Winky curtsies, “Does Master Draco be needing anything else?”

“Not right now, but could you bring me a Pepper-Up in the morning?”

“Master Draco should be getting more sleep.” Winky scolds. “I be bringing coffee too.”

“I  _ adore  _ you.” Draco tells her.

Winky just smiles at him, bids them both good night, and then Draco’s faced with a bewildered Connor.

“You have your own house elf?”

“Yep.”

“And you-you’re  _ nice  _ to her?”

“Yeah? I’ll have you know she’s the best elf to ever exist.”

Connor burst into laughter. 

Draco stays with him until the hot chocolate is gone, then makes him promise to come get Draco if anything happens again. He leaves the room, stroking LuLu and trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to get this under control. 

He needs to nip this in the butt before it gets bad. And something tells him it’s only gonna get worse from here.

  
  
  


\-----------

  
  
  


Harry steps out of Umbridge’s office the second curfew hits, slightly shaken with a bloody hand.

This feels like one of those things he should probably talk about. As a matter of fact, he should probably get Draco to heal him, or at least tell Hermione because she would know how to fix this. Or maybe he could get a hug from Ron, quiet reading time with Blaise, even one of Pansy’s jokes.

His friends would know how to make this better. Right?

At the bare minimum they would know how to make  _ him  _ feel better, because as of this moment, Harry feels like absolute shit. 

_ I am useless  _ is now carved into his hand, dripping with blood that Harry should probably wipe away. 

It’s not a beating.

But somehow it feels like it is.

He doesn’t like to think about it. Doesn’t like to remember everything that Vernon and Petunia have said, doesn’t see the point in reminiscing on cruel hands and violent words, but for some reason they flood his thoughts as he floats back to his common room.

Oddly detached, not really focusing on where he’s going, he’s just kinda...there.

But he isn’t there at all.

Because his mind is currently in a small locked cupboard. There are voices yelling outside, light floods in and it hurts his eyes. Vernon grabs him and it  _ hurts,  _ he’s too small for big hands to grab him like that. Too small to reach the stove, so he burns his hands. Petunia shrieks at him, something about ruining her stove, but Harry can’t focus on it because he’s crying and it  _ hurts.  _ Vernon’s face comes into view. Thunderous, angry, and scary. His arm hurts again, Vernon’s going to end up breaking it, or that’s what he thinks. 

It was the first time Vernon ever hit him.

He was five years old.

Vernon sprained his wrist that day.

They didn’t even give him burn ointment. 

“Are you going to say the password or not?!”

Harry blinks.

When the hell did he make it all the way back?

The Fat Lady peers down at him, her sleeping mask pulled up to her hairline. It’s the first time he’s ever seen her look worried.

“Hey-are you okay?”

“Fine, sorry, just a little spaced out.”

“Well hurry and get inside. You’re  _ late  _ you know.”

He knows. Harry mumbles the password, as soon as the Fat Lady is out of eyesight, he risks a glance at his hand. The bleeding has stopped for now, but Harry shoves it in his pockets anyways. 

The fire in the common room is on the verge of dying out, and there’s no one in the common room to catch him this late. Well, no one but the twins.

Fred perks up when he sees Harry, but it’s George who stands and starts walking his way. Usually the twins are smiling, all happy and always up to something, but as they draw closer the smile fades from their faces.

“Harry?” Fred asks, coming to a stop in front of him. 

George takes a step forward. “What happened?”

He tries to tell him, he does, he  _ wants  _ to tell them. They’re his friends, they’re his  _ family.  _ He  _ hates  _ lying to his friends, and he has a rule about lying to his family, but for some reason the words just won’t come out. 

Instead of saying anything, Harry just stares at them. The longer he stares, the more worried they get, and then, he’s not sure what happens, but they startle and crowd into his space.

“Harry?!”

“Hey, come on, buddy, there’s no need for that!”

He has no fucking clue what they’re talking about until two sets of hands remove his glasses and wipe something from his face. Then he realizes he’s crying, but he can’t- he doesn’t know  _ why  _ or how to make it  _ stop  _ and he can’t think of anything but Vernon and  _ pain  _ and he  _ doesn’t know what the fuck is happening- _

One of them, he’s not sure who does it, pulls him close. The other circles his back and with family on either side of him, like some sort of weird twin sandwich, his head starts to clear. 

They don’t say anything, just comfort him in a way he’s seen them do to Ron and Ginny when they’re really upset. It reminds him of the Quidditch World Cup, where they each held on to Ginny. It reminds him of after the second task, where they stuck to Ron’s side like glue for a solid week. 

It reminds him that they really  _ do  _ see him as another younger brother. That they’re his family. That he  _ has  _ family. Family that would never hurt him like in the past, and for some reason that makes it a whole lot easier to breathe. 

After a few minutes Harry’s calm enough to pull away. He fixes them with a sheepish smile.

“Are you okay?” George asks again, soft and all big-brother like. Strangely like Bill, if Harry’s honest.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to get all emotional. Just, uh, long day, I guess.”

Fred ruffles his hair. “Are you sure? You know you can tell us anything, right?”

“We are,”

“For lack of better words,”

_ “Damn  _ good big brothers.”

Harry laughs at their antics, “Yeah! I’m fine.”

They share a look, clearly not believing him, but they know better than to pry.

“I’m gonna go call Draco.”

Fred latches onto the new topic. “Late night shenanigans?” He asks with an eyebrow wiggle.

Harry blushes.

“Ooo! Fred, Fred  _ look!  _ Harry Hare is  _ blushing!” _

“Oh this is such a moment!”

“I wish we bought that camera in Diagon Alley.”

“But we got the-”

“-I know, I know, but  _ still  _ this moment  _ has  _ to be documented!”

“You two are awful.” Harry tells them. 

“We wouldn’t be us,”

“If we weren’t annoying.”

Harry laughs again, he feels a whole lot better now, actually. Good enough that he takes the stairs two at a time, doesn’t flinch when he showers and cleans his hand. He does make a face when he wraps it, and then another, more fearful face, as he stares at the little cell phone Hermione made them all last year.

Everyone else is asleep, curtains closed so no one can hear anyone else’s snores. 

Harry slinks into bed, closes his curtains, casts a locking and a silencing charm, and then calls Draco.

He answers on the second ring.

Well, someone answers, but it’s not Draco.

“Harry!” Blaise all but shouts, “Thank  _ Merlin.  _ He’s gone crazy. He’s not listening to a  _ single thing I say!” _

“That’s because you’re not taking this seriously!”

“No, it’s because you’re  _ insane  _ and I want to  _ sleep!” _

“It’s not even midnight!”

“You- _ midnight!  _ I am going to-”

Harry cuts his friend off with a laugh. 

“Can I get an explanation? What’s happening here?”

Draco snatches the phone from Blaise, who yelps out some  _ very  _ colorful language, and gives Harry the full story.

Slytherins are being bullied.

The first week in and shit’s already hit the fan.

Godric help them all, they’re  _ clearly  _ gonna need it to get through this year.

Draco’s apparently already working on something to help out, or he’s gathering theories that he plans to talk over with Hermione. Harry’s not looking forward to it. He loves them both, he does, but they get a little out of hand when they’re working on projects.

“But, hey, you didn’t call to hear about inner house problems, did you?” Draco says when he’s finally calmed down. “What’s up? How was detention?”

The words are on the tip of his tongue. He  _ knows  _ he has to say something, anything, there’s a fucking cut on his hand, and his boyfriend is a  _ healer.  _

“It was detention.” Harry says instead. “With a bitch, might I add. I cut my hand on the way back.”

“How’d you manage that?” Blaise asks.

“Do you want me to heal it? We can sneak you in fairly easily.”

“Nah,” Harry’s words get caught in his throat. “It’s just a little scratch from Peeves, I already took care of it.”

“I’m going to kill Peeves one of these days.” Draco tells him. “Bloody ghost is getting on my damn nerves. But seriously, I can heal it in the morning-”

“It’s fine, love, it’s just a little scratch. Besides, you’re gonna be up all night working on your project.”

“He knows you too well.” Blaise says.

“Fuck you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i ended on a bad note, i know, silly Harry. warning for next chapter, there's going to be a sex ed scene. i debated putting it in and in the end i liked it too much to pull it so please look forward to poppy casually making harry want to crawl in a hole and never come out.  
> anyways,
> 
> harry: I am always honest with my friends  
> harry, after umbridge's detention: i am sometimes honest with my friends
> 
> draco: i'm not a father  
> first year slytherins: yes you are  
> draco, sighing: yes i am
> 
> pansy: and that's why umbridge deserves to have her heart ripped out  
> emmy, with a knife: let's rip umbridge's heart out!
> 
> blaise: lulu and i are the best of friends, no one has ever loved like we love, she is the best cat in the whole world and i would die for her  
> lulu: *leaves as soon as she sees draco*  
> blaise: my heart has never known such agony
> 
> harry: i don't have trauma!  
> also harry, in the midst of not dealing with his trauma:
> 
> fred and george: *planning on pranking umbridge*  
> harry: *comes in crying*  
> fred and george: *now planning on killing umbridge*
> 
> blaise: draco is my best friend is there isn't a thing i wouldn't do for him  
> also blaise, when draco is planning: i'd kill him for one millisecond of quiet


	15. Stupidity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: homophobic language, mentions of past trauma, harry being dumb

He doesn’t know why he’s doing it, doesn’t understand what the hell is wrong with him, but the next morning, Harry wakes up and immediately grabs one of Draco’s bigger hoodies because it hides his hands. The long black sleeves nearly come down to his fingers, which more than covers the little  _ issue  _ on his hand, but it also still smells a lot like Draco, makes him feel all warm and happy, plus, the only class has has today is Charms and Flitwick isn’t going to care if he’s wearing regular clothes. 

Hermione yells at all the fifth years to hurry the bloody hell up.

“She’s mental.” Ron groans as they haul a half asleep Seamus and Dean down the steps.

Harry just shrugs.

“I honestly think she just wants this over with as quickly as possible.” Neville comments from behind them. “Can’t blame her, I don’t know what Pomphrey’s ‘sex-ed’ class is gonna cover, but I know it’s probably gonna be mortifying.”

Everyone within earshot groans, which means the entire common room that’s filled with fifth years who would rather be asleep than dealing with this bullshit.

The lot of them make their way down to the Great Hall, where Ellios directs them outside the castle. Down by the lake they find the rest of their year, and Harry may or may not breathe a little bit better when he sees a flash of white-blonde hair.

Draco, upon seeing Harry in his hoodie, storms over and pulls him directly into a hug. He tries to pull away, but Harry is tired, and his boyfriend’s shoulder is a perfect place to rest his head, so Draco ends up not going very far.

“You’re sickening.” Blasie tells them.

Harry hears Draco mumble something about a pot and a kettle, so he peeks up and sees Theo practically hanging off Blaise’s shoulders. Pansy is trying  _ very  _ hard not to laugh.

Ron is definitely snickering, and Blaise hits him for it.

Which wakes Theo up enough to notice that he is, in fact, no longer in bed, but out by the Black Lake. He pops off Blaise immediately, face red and blotchy. Harry muffles his laughs in Draco’s shoulder.

“Better get that under control,” Draco whispers into his hair, “Blaise-Bear is being  _ sensitive-” _

“I’ll kill you.” Blaise mummers. “You kept me up until one in the  _ bloody  _ morning, I’ve already thought of ways to hide parts of your body.”

Eventually Harry realizes it’s a little awkward to be hanging off of his boyfriend when they’re about to be put through a sex-ed class and pulls back. Not that Draco goes far, because he latches onto Harry’s uninjured hand, not suspecting a single thing. 

“-still don’t see why they had to do this before breakfast.” Hermione is complaining, “It positively  _ ruined  _ my morning study, and I wanted to be done before our get together this afternoon!”

Pansy rubs a hand down her arm, “It’s okay, we can just do the McGonagall’s essay together, it’s not due until Monday, we can put it before Ancient Runes, and do that essay on Sunday since it’s not due until Wednesday.”

Hermione looks at her like she hangs the stars and moon. Harry peeks around for Ron, and Draco clearly sees what he’s doing, because he points at the group in front of them where Ron is laughing with Seamus, Dean, and Parvarti. A scowl makes its way onto Harry’s face when he sees that his friend is standing funny because he’s leaning into  _ Lav.  _ Mille looks between the two groups with a frown.

“That’s going to be  _ fun  _ when it happens.”

“It’s going to be bloody annoying.”

“Can’t be worse than  _ those  _ three.” Draco points out.

The three of them turn to see Blaise and Theo blushing, not properly looking at each other, all while Neville rolls his eyes.

Their observance of disasters waiting to happen is cut short by Pomphrey and Ellios walking to the front, dragging Crabbe and Goyle with them. They deposit the boys at the front of the crowd.

Ellios summons blankets for everyone to sit on, a good thing because the Madam is short and Harry’s not sure he’d be able to see her over everyone else if he weren’t sitting.

He ends up in between Draco and Neville, leaning heavily onto Draco’s side, head on his shoulder, still half-way watching Hermione and Pansy in front of them, Blaise and Theo next to Neville, and Ron interacting with Lavender. 

At the rate his best friend is going, Harry might just lose his bet with Draco. Though, that’s not nearly as bad at having to watch some girl drool over his best mate while Ron shifts further and further away from her. 

“Good Morning, fifth years.” Pomphrey says, effectively gathering Harry’s attention. 

The fifth years echo her response, a creepily in sync ‘good morning, madam.’

Pomphrey seems amused by it. “I understand it’s a bit early, so Ellios and I are going to make this as brief as possible. At this point in your life, many of you have experienced some of what Ellios and I are going to cover. This conversation is going to take place in three parts. I will begin with an overall assessment, then we’ll split into two groups. Those with female reproductive parts will come with me and those with male reproductive parts will stay with Ellios. Then we will hand out paper to our respective groups. You all will be required to write at least _one_ anonymous question, and we will return, answer _all_ questions and after that you will be free to go. Understood?”

There’s a ripple of nods in the crowd, and then Harry sits, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second as Poppy Pomphrey calmly explains sex to them. Somehow her calm and professional tone makes everything worse, especially when she proceeds to talk about  _ queer sex.  _ Seriously, he’d rather discover those things with Draco in their free time, not listen to the Madam who’s healed him  _ way  _ too many times explain it. 

Even Pansy, cool, collected,  _ stone-faced Pansy  _ gets uncomfortable when Pomphrey starts explaining sex with two girls.

“And that,” Ellios pipes up for the first time, “Brings us to sexual attraction. Some of you may have already come aware of your sexuality, so some of what I say will make a lot of sense.”

They head to the front, Pomphrey stepping out of their way, “The first thing you lot need to understand is that sexual attraction and gender are  _ fluid.  _ There’s a scale of sorts, ranging from completely straight to completely gay, from cis to transgender, and I will be covering the main points, but if anyone has a question or concern, please feel free to write it on your anonymous card later.”

They go on to explain sexualities, the differences between being 'queer' and 'heterosexual'. From there they move onto gender, explaining what the hell ‘cis’ means, how gender isn't as simple as 'boy' and 'girl'. 

Finally, after Harry feels less like he’s going to die of embarrassment, Pomphrey takes the girls a little ways down, and then Harry returns to wishing he could disappear as Ellios explains  _ periods,  _ and-and  _ boners.  _ He really thinks he might die on the spot when they start talking about safe sex and STDs. 

When they hand out the little slips of paper and quills, Harry has no idea what to write, but he distinctly remembers Vernon and Petunia not being  _ anywhere  _ as accepting as wizards, so he ends up writing;  _ Is there a wrong gender or sexuality? _

There’s loads of questions, from the girls, boys, and people possibly in between.

Things like:

_ How do I come out to my parents? _

_ Is being a trans-boy okay if I still want to wear skirts? _

_ Do I have to be genderqueer to wear makeup? _

_ How do clothes fit into everything? _

_ How do I look more androgous?  _

_ What if my period hasn’t started yet? _

_ Is there any way to make my cramps hurt less? _

Pomphrey and Ellios answer every question completely calm and unbothered.

“You come out once you feel safe enough to do so. Try starting with friends, or people you trust. It’s never easy to come out, but having support behind you will help you if someone isn’t accepting, and trust me, some people will be unaccepting.”

“You can absolutely wear skirts if you’re a boy! Trans or not, clothing is just clothing, wear what you want to.”

“Going back to Ellios’s point, clothing, makeup, and hair are all forms of self expression. While it’s obviously tied to gender norms, there’s no need to stick to them. Wear what makes you happy. If you want to wear makeup, go for it.”

“Androgyny is different to everyone, some people grow their hair out or cut it, some wear baggy clothes, and there are potions to help.”

“For questions, or even pain relievers regarding periods, come see Ellios or I and we’ll be able to have a private discussion to best suit your needs.”

Ellios frowns as they read the next question aloud to the group of surprisingly invested fifth years. “Is there a wrong type of gender or sexuality?” They eye Madam, who nods, and then Ellios sighs. 

“Look, there are going to be people who say ‘yes’ to this question. I’ve encountered my fair share of people who refuse to use my given pronouns, refuse to respect me as a person, and that is unfortunately not something I, or you, have control over. However, remember this. At the end of the day, those people are not the ones living in your head. You alone have control over your head and your body, and if they’re not you, why should their opinion matter? There is no wrong gender, no wrong sexuality. None of the things we’ve discussed are  _ wrong,  _ even if some people try to make it sound that way. Do not let those in disagreement hold you back from your happiness, understand?”

All in all, the group of fifth years are released before breakfast. They listen to Hermione comparing muggle homophobia to the lack of it in the wizarding world, a mistake, because right as their group is nearing the front doors, Crabbe and Goyle scoff.

“Bunch of fucking poofs is what you are.”

“Watch it.” Draco growls at them. 

“What?” Goyle sneers, “Gonna get fucked in the ass if we don’t?”

“Ten house points.” Hermione sneers at them, “For your blatant ignorance.”

Crabbe laughs at her, “Oh no! Not the house points. Rather have that than deal with a bunch of fucking  _ fa-” _

Harry’s not sure who starts it. All he knows is that one second everyone is tense as hell, and then there are about twenty wands pointed at Crabbe and Goyle’s throats.

“Detention.” Draco says calmly, but Harry can feel the weight of his angry magic, can see his hair rising and the dangerous sheen to his eyes. “Tonight with Snape. Seven o’clock. If you’re not there I’ll deal with you myself.”

That seems to strike fear into the idiots, or maybe it’s the amount of wands pointed at them. Either way they rush into the castle, a mob of angry people glaring at their retreating figures.

Hermione and Draco are the only thing holding Harry back.

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


“They’re going to pay for that comment, aren’t they?” Hermione whispers later in Ancient Runes. Blaise and Pansy stiffen next to him.

The four of them are sitting at what appears to be ‘their’ table now, pouring over rune books, trying to figure out the class assignment Professor Bath gave them. Old coot had slapped a simple translation on the board, smiled, and then fucked off to his office. While it’s not  _ really  _ teaching, Bath’s whole ‘figure out yourself’ approach certainly gives Draco a lot of planning time.

And he currently has a  _ lot  _ to plan.

“Our room. After lunch.”

Hermione nods, quickly launching back into the assignment like they were never having a conversation in the first place.

The four of them are annoyed when the rune translation ends up being ‘did you figure it out?’, but Draco’s a little too busy planning to keep the emotion. Lunch is a weird affair, Millie and Theo keep most of the conversation flowing, Daphne adding in a few comments here and there. Pansy and Blasie at least make a token effort to join in on the conversation, but Draco plots.

He plots, schemes, plans, and then plots some more until the bell rings and his friends lead him to the Gang’s Room.

One click of a lock and the wards settle over them, Hermione leans against one of the tables.

“Talk.”

He’s going to, he’s definitely going to. 

He starts with his latest plot, the one he started hatching the second he got back to his room after the talk with Connor.

Slytherins are being hurt.  _ His  _ Slytherins are being attacked, and normally it wouldn’t be a big deal because his house is  _ notorious  _ for fending for themselves, but there’s this little sensation in his gut that he can’t shake. It’s the feeling he gets whenever trouble starts coming around. He got it when Harry was acting weird first year, when he saw a little black book in his second year, when he started realizing Dumbledore was up to something second year, when the Goblet screamed out Harry’s name. It makes him anxious, like it’s untethered to everything but the knowledge that something is about to happen. Something that involves his Slytherins who are too small or too sure in their charms to  _ really  _ protect themselves.

His plan for that problem is a simple one.

“Communication devices?”

“Yes.” Draco nods, starting to pace. “It can’t be like our phones, it’ll have to be something small. Something that won’t get confiscated, something that rich pricks would always have on them. A simple charm would do the trick, if I could get something that gets hot enough for me to notice it would burn me in class, which gives me the excuse to go out to “see Poppy” so I can go and assist whoever’s in trouble. That part’s easy, but the issue is that I wouldn’t know who I’m running to, so I wouldn’t know who to look out for. I’d need names charmed into them, bare minimum.”

Hermione’s already taking down notes, Pansy’s transfigured one of their book walls into a giant chalkboard, Ron’s looking at him in the same way he looks at chess boards. Draco’s not sure which reaction he likes best, so he launches into his next quest.

The fact of the matter is that they are about to be at  _ war.  _ With  _ Death Eaters.  _ They can make fun of old Snake Face until their heart's content, but said evil villain is still extremely powerful, he didn’t get the amount of fear he wields freely. People have to be afraid of something, and power is generally a good way to strike dread into anyone. Riddle, unfortunately, has the upper hand here. Even if their parents are involved, Draco’s not just going to sit by while his mum and dad are out possibly getting killed. And knowing Harry’s luck, Harry will end up in the middle of the battle anyways and there is no damn way Draco will be anywhere but next to him. 

“So what’s the plan?” Ron asks, already looking between Draco and Harry like he knows exactly what Draco’s going to say.

Harry looks uneasy.

“You’re not going to like this.”

“I hate it when you say that.”

“We- no-  _ they  _ need someone to teach them.”

“Draco-”

Ron cuts them both off, clearing his throat and putting Draco’s thoughts into words. “We’ve all gotten pretty decent at dueling, but the other kids here aren’t going to survive the war if we don’t help them. Our Defense education has been fucked for a long time, there’s no run over form the previous year, no set curriculum, hell, we’ve only had one decent teacher and our current one is just fucking everything we  _ have  _ learned up.”

Hermione pauses her notes to stare at him. Her cheeks are pink. If this were any other situation, Draco would be grumbling about his and Harry’s bet.

“Okay, but why are you all looking at me?”

“Mate,” Blaise says, “Harry,  _ buddy.  _ You’re the best we’ve got in the school. Sure, Ron’s right, we’re all pretty damn good at fighting, but you’ve fought snakes for tits  _ four  _ times now. You’ve got more experience in your little finger than most people do in their entire bodies.”

“But to lead what’s basically an  _ underaged death training-” _

“You won’t be alone.” Draco assures him. “The five of us will be right there with you. I’ll get others to help out, figure out a network of some sort-”

“Leave the networking to me.” Pansy says.

Draco ignores her writing  _ How Not to Die Class  _ on the chalkboard. 

Ron glares at her.

“What? If we’re going to be training a small army we have to be sure there are no loose ends or weak connections. It’s not that I don’t trust you lot, I’m just the best at connections.”

She’s right, and that plan is something they’ll have to look into for a month at least, so Draco starts on his final big plan for the moment.

In his list making, he’d called it the  _ Do-whore-les Um-Bitch Issue.  _

He doesn’t fucking trust her. 

Politicians? In a  _ school?  _

Hell no.

That’s exactly how the whole second year Basilisk thing happened, because someone let a politician who may or may not have been his father get something into Hogwarts. They’re always some form of dirty, always have something up their sleeves, and never,  _ never,  _ who they say they are. Umbitch wears way too much pink. That alone is nearly a beacon screaming  _ don’t trust me! _

“The issue is that she’s already here. The last time something from someone political got in here we had a petrifying, cursed, and manipulated Geia on a rampage. They’ve sent in Dementors, the  _ bloody fucking Goblet,  _ and now her? I can’t even  _ begin  _ to imagine the havoc she’s going to cause.”

“We need to be careful,” Hermione puts down her notes. “Harry, you had detention with her last night, did you notice anything?”

Harry stiffens at the question. Draco swears green eyes flicker down to a hand hidden in a hoodie pocket, but then Harry’s rolling his eyes.

“She’s a right bloody git. Her office gives me creeps, for starters. There’s cats  _ everywhere.  _ She must have a thousand moving cat plates in the room, and it’s  _ all so bloody pink!  _ Even the  _ walls!  _ Gave me a fucking headache.”

“What’d she make you do? You came back after I went to bed.” Ron says.

Harry shrugs, “Just lines.”

“Lines?” Blaise scoffs. 

The others yell about the ridiculousness of it all, but Draco keeps watching Harry.

Something is off. 

He doesn’t meet the other’s eyes, and his hand is still in that pocket….

Did Peeves really cut him that bad? 

If he did, Harry would’ve let Draco heal it. Hell, Draco should’ve still healed it. Should’ve demanded that Harry get his ass down to the Slytherin dorms and taken care of it, but he didn’t because he was in the midst of making things make sense.

And now he’s getting that awful feeling in his gut again.

“Draco? You listening?”

“Hm?”

Pansy rolls her eyes. “I asked what we’re going to do about it. It’s only been a week and the entire school hates her, but she’s clearly here on the Minister’s orders and that makes her untouchable. Which angle are we taking?”

“We wait until we gather enough evidence to kick her out. She’s in the Defense position, I’m sure we’ll have enough to get her sacked by Halloween, Minister’s pet or not.”

Blaise nods, probably already figuring out who he’ll need to say what to, and then there’s a sliver light and Poppy’s bunny patronus appears before him.

_ “Draco Malfoy, I don’t know where the hell you’re at but you are ten minutes late! You have five minutes to get to my wing or I’m locking you out!” _

Fuck.

  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  


As soon as Madam Pomphrey’s patronus calls Draco out, Harry finds most of his friends scurrying to their extra activities. Draco to the Medical Ward, Hermione to McGonagall’s office, Pansy to her art class, Blaise to the greenhouses. Even Ron, good, wonderful, school hating Ron has somewhere to be.

Normally Harry would be put off by his friends being busy, but this time he’s grateful. His friends leaving means he can rush to the library and find something to hide his stupid fucking hand.

He’s searching through books in the ‘appearances’ sections, glaring at tomes meant to hide acne, fix cowlicks, and even shave, when a little head bumps into his shoulder.

“Oh, hello, Harry.” Luna smiles up at him.

She immediately frowns, and that doesn’t bode well for him at all. 

“You’ve hurt your hand…”

Harry gulps, intensity hiding his hand in his hoodie pocket.

“You don’t want people to know?”

“Ah- it’s not something that I- it’s nothing, Luna.”

“A cursed quill?” Luna’s frown deepens, she stares hard at Harry’s chest, like he’s not there at all. Like he’s some sort of intense math problem. 

After a few anxiety inducing moments, Luna meets his gaze, eyes remarkably clear. 

“I won’t tell anyone, Harry. It’s very rude to tell other people’s secrets, you know. But you won’t find what you’re looking for here.”

Harry’s about to ask her what the hell she’s talking about, but she takes his hand and drags him a few aisles down. Luna stops in front of a bookshelf, grabs a tome with a blue bindning, and hands it over.

_ Glamors for dummies. _

Harry blinks. 

“You-”

“I still think you should tell them. Keeping secrets from your friend never ends well, especially when the secrets hurt you. If you’re not careful this could end very badly for you.” Luna tells him. “I won’t say anything unless someone asks me, I would never betray your trust, but I do recommend keeping some dittany around. It’ll help with the pain, and I’ve heard it’s fairly easy to order. Although,” Luna pouts, one small finger coming to rest on her chin, “I do believe the first Hogsmeade trip is next weekend, perhaps Dogweed and Deathcap will have what you’re looking for, and maybe a gift for Hermione’s birthday…..maybe you’ll even come by it sooner.”

Harry stares at her, mouth wide open, book trembling in his hands. “Luna...are you a seer?”

“Um? Oh, well I am a descendant of Tiresias and Delphi….”

Harry has no idea who those people are. He’ll ask Hermione tomorrow, and since Luna was kind enough to help him they end up studying for a bit until Harry hears a bell ring and rushes out because the sooner he learns glamors the better.

He tries to go to the gang’s room, but sees Neville and Millie walking into it, so he tries the next floor up, where he’s stopped by the Creevy brothers that chase him all the way up to the seventh floor.

Really, he just needs a quiet place to study glamors. He needs a place where he won’t be disturbed.

Harry’s pacing in front of some old tapestry, trying to figure out an escape route because he can hear Collin and Dennis coming for him, and he really, really,  _ really  _ needs to study this stupid book.

Footsteps get closer, Harry backs into the wall and feels his hand come into contact with...a door? 

One the definitely wasn’t there before, but is here now and may be his only chance to escape his two-person fan club, so Harry throws it open and steps inside.

Not what he was expecting from a random door that appeared out of nowhere, but he’s certainly not complaining.

The room reminds him room back home, missing several things that he  _ knows  _ should be there, but it has his desk, his maroon reading couch pushed in front of a fireplace, a familiar bookshelf that’s tripled in size. 

He turns to find that the door has vanished, and since he doesn't see another way out, Harry plops down on a familiar couch and cracks his book open.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  
  


“Relax, Draco, Hermione warned you about this over the summer.”

Draco will not relax, thank you very much.

He’d spent the afternoon with Poppy, bouncing ideas off her for his Slytherin Problem, finally deciding on  _ coins  _ because that’s definitely something money-loving kids would have. As soon as he was released he ran to find Hermione, only to find her and Ron looking for Harry.

They searched the entire hour leading up to dinner, and now here they are. Sitting with their backs facing each other and a noticeably empty spot to Ron’s left.

A spot where Harry should be. 

Harry  _ should  _ be directly behind Draco, leaning back to poke at him, taking a piss at each other from tables that are just a few feet away, joking with their friends. 

Instead he’s Merlin knows where, doing Merlin knows what, and hopefully not getting into trouble.

He wouldn’t be all that worried, but Hermione couldn’t find him on the stupid Marauders’ Map, and that is something Draco finds  _ extremely  _ concerning.

“Has Harry disappeared again?” Theo asks quietly. 

Draco nods, not at all surprised when his friends sigh.

He’s about to give up on eating all together, excuse himself early and dismantle the castle by hand if it comes to it. And then a tuff of mangy black hair comes barreling into the Great Hall.

No one says a word until Harry’s seated, and then Draco swivels in his seat.

“Where were you?”

“I’m sorry, I got caught up in my assignments and I lost track of time-”

“You were doing your assignments?!” Hermione gasps. 

Harry glares at her. “Yes, I was doing my assignments, there wasn’t anything else for me to do since Quidditch tryouts don’t start until Monday. You guys were all busy.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Draco snaps. “You were  _ gone,  _ Harry. We couldn’t find you anywhere, no matter  _ where  _ we looked.”

“I was just in the library.”

Draco knows for a fact that he’s lying. 

But before he can say anything Harry takes his hands, holding them with strangely smooth ones. Funny, his hands have always been a little rough. Maybe he finally started using that lotion Pansy forced on him?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just studying, I thought you’d be happy…”

Ron and Pansy are both giving him a look, Blasie and Hermione seem a little more skeptical, but unfortunately for all of them, Harry is still wearing one of Draco’s old hoodies.

And that might just be his greatest weakness.

“If you’re going to disappear at least warn us first,” Draco sighs. “You freaked us out.”

“You freaked  _ Draco  _ out.” Blaise corrects.

Draco glares at him. Smug bastard doesn’t even flinch.

He’s about to make some nasty remark, but then little Emilia pads over to them.

“Mister Harry-”

“Harry is fine, Emmy, I’m not  _ old.” _

Emilia gives him a look, glancing between him and Draco like they’ve merged into the same person. 

She recovers quickly, flashing them both a big smile. “Harry, then. Professor Umbitch-  _ Umbridge,  _ I mean, asked me to tell you to meet her in her office after dinner.”

Harry sighs.

Why can’t he ever catch a break?

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Harry meets them in the Gang’s Room thirty minutes before curfew, right as Draco and Hermione reach a breakthrough and Ron tries desperately to hold Pansy and Blaise back.

“Draco, love, it is  _ nearly time!”  _ Pansy hisses,  _ “We’re going to be late!” _

“Perfects don’t have a curfew,” Draco reminds her.

Blaise lets out a scream. “I do! I bloody well do! And if one of you absolute fucks try to give me detention for being out when  _ you wouldn’t fucking leave,  _ I am going to  _ gouge out your eyeballs!” _

Draco rolls his eyes, but he does nod to Hermione and the two of them start gathering their research.

Coins were turning out to be quite the promising subject for his little Slytherin Problem. They hold heat, should maintain shape and structure, and it’s easy to bind them with mere names.

It’ll take a month’s worth of prep to get everything together, but Draco’s already crossing the Slytherin Problem off his list.

He freezes when he smells blood.

Not any blood,  _ Harry’s blood. _

His head snaps to the doorway where Harry stands, watching them like they’re the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m gone for two hours and you all-”

“Why are you bleeding?”

Every action in the room stops, all heads turning towards him.

“Bleeding?” Harry asks. “I’m not-”

“I smell it on you. Are you hurt?”

“Draco, what are you talking about? I think I’d know if I was bleeding.”

Draco crosses the room in three seconds, his Veela side heightening his senses and he  _ definitely  _ smells Harry’s blood. It’s somewhere on the right side of his body, loud and pungent, the smell growing stronger with every step he takes.

Harry flinches back ever so slightly, but remains tall in front of him. His green eyes search Draco for something, and Draco knows he doesn’t look his best right now.

His eyes tend to go black with his Veela starts screaming that one of his friends is hurt, and he can smell Harry’s blood, so Harry is  _ clearly hurt. _

The only thing is that Draco can’t see any trace of blood on him.

“Babe,” Harry takes his hands with those weirdly soft ones of his. “I know I worried you today, but I’m fine. Really, I was just writing lines, maybe I gave myself a papercut or something.”

Draco flips his hands over, inspecting them very carefully.

The smell of blood is strong on Harry’s right one, but there’s not a single trace of injury. 

Draco sighs.

“Maybe you’re right. Sorry, I’ve been on edge ever since the thing with Connor happened.”

“It’s okay to be worried.” Harry tells him softly, “This year is shaping up to be a stressful one, everyone’s busy with their own things, hell, I haven’t even gotten a letter back from Sirius yet, but you don’t have to go all scary Veela on me over a silly little papercut.”

“Didn’t you get a cut from Peeves last night?” Blaise asks.

Funny, a cut from Peeves would definitely leave a mark.

And Draco still sees nothing.

“Just a little one, but I took care of it before I called you two.”

Draco’s eyes narrow, but Harry catches him off guard with a sweet kiss.

“Stop making that face.” He says as they pull apart, “You’re gonna get wrinkles and Pansy will kill you.”

“Damn straight I will, fifteen is too young to have wrinkles, Dragon.”

“Shut up.”

He leads Harry over to show him the research he and Hermione have been working on, keeping his weirdly smooth right hand firmly in his grip.

Something about it feels weird.

He isn’t sure what it is, but something isn't right.

He just can't see it.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Saturday morning finds Draco waiting outside Ellios’s office because Poppy banned him from the medical ward until his first session was over.

He checks the time with a quick  _ tempus,  _ cursing when he realizes it’s already ten fifteen. He has far too much to do today, and not nearly enough time if Ellios doesn’t hurry the fuck up.

“Impatient, are we?”

Ellios watches him from the now open doorway, amusement all over their face.

“Yes, sorry, I have several things to do today and I didn’t take any of them with me.”

“Well come along, then. I will try to make this quick.”

Their office is a lot like them, simple, mysterious, and elegant. He spots a few photos of Willie over the years, filing it away for teasing material later.

Ellios sits across from him in a leather chair while Draco sips tea on the comfortable leather couch.

“Now, typically first sessions are to set boundaries, file paperwork, and get an understanding of what we will be doing here. I would ask that you think of this room as a safe place, anything that you say will be left in these walls, and you will be allowed to say anything. I do not take my clients secrets for granted, and exposing them would not only be unethical but detrimental to my client’s health. Do you understand?”

Draco nods.

“Good. We are already acquainted with one another, but I find that clients respond better when engaged in conversation, meaning you will be able to ask me any question and get an honest answer. Remember, what is said in this room stays in this room. I will be trusting you as you trust me. Understood?”

“Understood.”

They plop a pile of paperwork on the table, some of it already filled out by his mum and dad, a few sections have Severus’s handwriting too.

“Your guardians have taken the initiative to begin paperwork, as you are a minor and need their sign offs before we begin, but they have left the more….personal bits...for you to fill out.” They hand Draco a quill, encourage him to use the coffee table if he needs to, and then leaves him to ponder over the sheer audacity of the questions before him.

His full name, age, lack of siblings, and date of birth and the year his magic became available to him are already filled out. He’s amused to see Lucius’s name struck through to make room for Narcissa’s name under parent number one. Underneath her Lucius is listed as parent number two, Severus as his ‘third guardian’. 

For his ‘history of problem’ Severus has very kindly listed  _ every fucking incident  _ he’s ever had, dating all the way back to the first sign of despondency when he was ten. 

His godfather has also, very kindly, completely exposed all his family problems. The abuse, the Dark Lord’s involvement, the near death experiences, literally  _ everything  _ that Draco’s been hiding since first year.

Underneath that shame is a little chart, asking about symptoms and if he’s ever experienced them. It’s rated on a scale of 0 to 3, 0 being none and 3 meaning severe, as well as a box for him to put how long said symptom has been going on.

_ Sadness or Depression?  _ Definitely a 2, but it’s gotten better so Draco marks his first through third year for the time, since he’s definitely been less depressed lately.

_ Suicidal thoughts?  _ Isn’t that one specific? He unfortunately has to put 1, since he’s had them but they’ve never been serious thoughts, merely fleeting moments.

_ Sleep Problems? Appetite Changes? Weight Changes? Inability to concentrate? _

All yeses, all around the 2 area since he’s gotten a bit better.

_ Obsessive thoughts?  _ Maybe.  _ Tension or Anxiety?  _ When hasn’t he been anxious?  _ Anxiety attacks?  _ He’s had a few.  _ Memory problems?  _ Only after a beating.  _ Compulsive behavior?  _ So he had a few tendencies.  _ Anger?  _ Merlin, that’s a yes.  _ Isolation?  _ No, his friends are really too nosey for their own good.  _ Strange thoughts?  _ If killing a few people or needing to hide from his father counts.  _ Body aches?  _ He literally was put through the wringer a few times.  _ Magical outlashes?  _ His Veela control is getting much better, thanks.  _ Magical strain?  _ Not really.

_ Phobias? _

Draco has a long list of them, but unfortunately he doesn't have the room to mark them, so he writes a ‘3’ and doesn’t give a date.

The packet goes on to ask more questions about his parents that are already filled out, so he skips those until he reaches a section called ‘Child Information’ and has to fill out every potion he’s ever used for his health, and their corresponding dates. He has to increase the given lines for that one, much to his annoyance. 

Finally, at the very end, is Ellios’s available time slots. 

Because he doesn't hate himself and knows he has a habit of staying up too late on Friday nights, Draco wisely picks the ‘ten o’clock’ option. 

“Finished?”

“Yes, professor.”

“In this office you may address me as Ellios or friend.” Ellios smiles. “I am going to give you a packet of information that highlights your rights, how magic is incorporated, and how the sessions will progress from here.”

“We’re not starting now?”

“Would you like to?”

Draco checks the time over their shoulder, nearly cursing when it reads eleven thirty, and shakes his head.

He leaves the office a little put out by how simple it seems.

  
  
  
  


—————

  
  
  


The first week of September and Draco stands out on the Quidditch field, facing the strangely large group of kids trying out for the Slytherin team. 

To his absolute shock, Blaise is on the field, Pansy and Theo up in the stands with a pissed looking Millie.

What in the hell?

“Alright, line up.” Draco says, ignoring the Carrow twins on either side of him. “If you’re a first year, get off the field.” A few people slink away. “If you have a grade lower than an Acceptable, go study, I can’t accept you or Severus would kill me.” That weeds a few people out. Draco glares at Flint, who sighs and leaves. The boy is literally repeating his seventh year, no way in  _ hell  _ is Draco letting him on. 

“If you’ve never flown once in your life, leave.”

The number drops to twenty.

“If you can’t fly for more than three hours straight, leave.”

Fifteen.

“If you can’t take a hit, leave.”

Thirteen.

“If you’re here for Seeker, leave.”

Ten.

Eh, it’s not the fifty he started out with.

“Alright, mount your brooms and get in that air on my mark. We’re gonna run some drills.” He turns to the twins, “There’s only two of you, so deal what damage you can. I’ll be on the ground for the first thirty minutes, then I’ll join you in the air.”

“Can we hit them?” Flora asks.

“Yes.”

Hestia smiles at him, “How hard can we hit them?”

“Just...try not to break any bones.”

The twins smile in a creepy way that reminds Draco of Fred and George, and then Draco blows his whistle and the Slytherins fly into the air.

He releases the balls, nearly laughing when one person gets startled by the Quaffle and falls off their broom.

In less than ten minutes Draco already knows who he’ll be keeping.

Blaise, the wanker, is a near perfect Chaser. He grabs the first Quaffle he sees, flies right past the twin’s Bludgers, past the others trying to get him, and lands a goal without even trying. Bloody asshole doesn't seem to care at all, and Draco  _ adores  _ him for it. 

Adrian Puecy is another Chaser. He’s one of the only two to steal the Quaffle from Blaise, and while he does get hit, he keeps going like the Bludger scratched him instead of landing in his ribcage.

To Draco’s surprise, that Connor kid is pretty damn good too. He snatches the Quaffle when it falls between Blaise’s and Adrian’s tug of war, sweeps past the twins before they even notice him, and lands a goal with a rather unnecessary loop.

It’s flashy, brilliant, and Draco is  _ definitely  _ getting him on the fucking team.

That just leaves him looking for a Keeper, but no one even bothers with that until the thirty minute mark when Draco flies into the air.

He spots her face before he realizes what she’s doing. Felicity Braxton, the muggle-born third year that’s done nothing but keep her head down and focus on her studies. She was picked on her first year, taunted because the house wanted  _ her  _ to get eaten by the monster in the Chamber of Secrets. Yet, all of her payback was Slytherin to the core. Draco himself didn’t know a damn thing about  _ any  _ of it until the night he made Blaise tell him about every single student in the Slytherin house. Blaise is still pissed about that particular late night engagement, but right now he just looks impressed.

Which is exactly how Draco is feeling.

Felicity’s annoyance gets the best of her, anger written all over her tan face. She sees Blaise coming for the goals on the right side, swoops up, blocks his goal, and then smiles very sweetly in his face. 

“Maybe next time, Zabini.” She spits.

And Draco?

Draco is completely sold.

“Land!” He commands, making sure his voice is loud enough for everyone to hear.

It’s only been forty-five minutes, he made  _ hella  _ good time.

“Carrows, good job today, I’m glad to have you back this year.”

“We’ll give ‘em hell!” The twins shout, leaning against each other like it’s their Merlin given right.

“Puecy, Zabini, Smith.”

Three heads turn his way.

“Congratulations, you’re our new Chasers.”

He sees a few faces that  _ clearly  _ want to protest, but after a single look from storm-grey eyes, no one says a word.

“Braxton.”

Felicity's head snaps up.

“Congrats, you’re our new keeper.”

“We have another girl on the team!” Flora squeals, draping herself over Felicity's surprised form. Hestia seems a little more annoyed by it all. 

Draco makes a note to keep an eye on her.

“Practice starts Tuesday after dinner, don’t be late.”

Blaise follows him off the field to the rest of their friends. He doesn't even make a face when Pansy kisses his cheek.

But, he does linger back to walk with Draco instead of taking his normal spot at Theo’s side.

“You didn’t choose me because I’m your best mate, right?”

Draco snorts. “If I did that we wouldn’t win a single game this season. I chose you because you were the best, and I fully expect you to help me win some points, got it?”

Blaise rolls his eyes, but he must feel better because he drags Draco up to the rest of them, slotting himself beside Theo and easily joining Pansy’s conversations about the differences between silks and satins.

Draco really wishes every issue could be cleared up in two mere sentences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I have some exciting news, one of the fics I've been working on should be ready to post by the end of February. I'm nearly done with it, so as soon as it's completed I'm gonna post the newest chapter of this first and then post that for your viewing pleasure. I'm super excited about it, and I'll tell you all more about it when the time comes, but I have to say it's probably one of my favorite things I've ever written.  
> Anyways, next week is The Chapter if you know what I mean.
> 
> Harry, hiding things:  
> Draco: something is wrong.
> 
> Draco: i smell blood  
> Harry: what's blood?
> 
> Their friends all coupling up:  
> Draco, Harry, and Millie: this is not going like we planned it.
> 
> Ellios: I'm going to help with your trauma  
> Draco: what trauma?  
> Also Draco, looking at the paper: oh. that trauma.
> 
> Blaise, slightly insecure for the first time in his life:   
> Draco: idk what this is, but it can't happen or the world will die so stop it.
> 
> Theo and Blasie: we're not a thing  
> Draco, picking up one of Theo's books from Blaise's bed: sure
> 
> Luna: i'm casually related to two of the most famous oracles known to man  
> Harry, not having a clue what the fuck an oracle is: cool!


	16. Blood Quills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron looks at him like he’s lost it.

Harry’s friends are too observant for their own good.

By the middle of September Pansy has made sure the whole school knows exactly what Umbitch is doing, and what she’s doing drives all of his friends up the wall. 

She’s giving Harry detention any time the mood strikes her.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal, but the thing is that she’s  _ only  _ giving Harry detention. Not even the twins have met her dark quills, and by Godric have they been trying.

Sirius and Remus are all for coming to Hogwarts and raising hell over this little fact, much like Ron and nearly all his other friends want to do.

But, after a letter from Narcissa that includes a vaguely hinted promise to get rid of the woman  _ soon,  _ all threats of raising hell slow.

Or maybe that’s just because his friends are currently in  _ awe  _ of the sheer  _ gal  _ one Dolores Umbitch has. 

She walks into Ellios’s classroom, little clipboard in her hand, glaring with eyes far too innocent for anyone to believe that she’s  _ not  _ evil.

“Dolores? Have you come to learn the ways of the mind?”

Umbitch’s eyes narrow into slits. Harry tries his best to hide behind Draco, thankful that his boyfriend and friends are too busy glaring to notice his unusual behavior.

“No, Miss Ellios, I am here to-”

_ “Professor  _ Ellios, Dolores. We went over pronouns in the last staff meeting. Surely you were not too busy with your cat pencil to notice?”

Harry nearly burst out laughing. Said little pencil is hooked into the bitch’s clipboard. The same bitch who is now an interesting shade of red.

“I have  _ never-” _

“Furthermore, I highly doubt you are here to do anything but disturb my class time as the only person who can  _ observe  _ a class is the headmaster himself.”

Umbitch  _ seethes.  _ She opens her mouth, a string of protests coming out, but Ellios just smiles.

“Kindly shut the door on your way out.” Is the only acknowledgement they give Umbitch before turning back to the class.

His shoulders sag in relief when she’s gone, and unfortunately this time time someone  _ does  _ notice.

“Are you okay?” Draco whispers. 

“Fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

Harry shrugs. “Must be the adrenaline. I don’t think I’ve ever been in the same room with her without getting detention.”

“Because she’s evil.”

He can’t fight that statement.

The saving graces that keeps Harry’s head from exploding are none other than Quidditch and Geia.

Harry finds himself spending hours after each detention with all fifty feet of Geia’s larger than life body curled around him, talking as quietly as he can.

It feels a little weird to walk down to the Chamber of Secrets without Draco by his side, but one he’s there, Geia is there. She questions the smell of blood and Harry tells her. Everything.

Who else is he going to tell? And, more importantly, who is  _ she  _ going to tell? There aren’t many pastlemouths to his knowledge, only two of them are stupid enough to correspond with a Basilisk, and Geia only likes one of them so Harry’s pretty sure he’s safe unless old snake face decides to pay his friend another  _ imperio  _ visit.

Morgana nearly dies on the spot when he comes back from their first meeting, and by the third detention she’s managed to guilt him into a visit.

_ “Don’t do anything stupid.” _

_ “I’m not stupid! You’re stupid!”  _ She protects from his wrist.

He swings the door open with a hiss. Geia’s already waiting for him, curled around her ridiculously big pillow with a Harry-sized hole beside her.

Morgana gulps.

_ “You have brought a friend…” _

Harry sighs,  _ “Geia, this is my pet snake-” _

_ “-I’m not a pet!” _

_ “-Morgana, this is Geia.” _

Morgana swivels slowly on his arm, like she completely forgot about their company just because Harry accidentally insulted her. 

_ “My king, may I-” _

_ “Please, child, you are taking care of our Harry, call me Geia.” _

Morgan absolutely loses it, which means Harry has to sneak back up to his room any time he visits Geia. It raises  _ so  _ many questions from his roommates, even more from Hermione when Ron tells her, and when she casually lets it slip to Draco that Harry’s been visiting Geia  _ without him  _ he gets a little butthurt. Nothing a kiss can’t fix, though.

Angelia is an  _ amazing  _ captain who’s taken to training them within the realms of bodily harm. He’d complain of course, but Ron’s doing most of that for him.

“First time on the team and I’m getting bloody  _ mauled.” _

“It builds character.” Harry tells him.

Ron looks at him like he’s lost it.

Their first game of the season is approaching quickly, between classes, Umbitch’s detentions, and trying to convince his friends that leading an underground army is a bad idea, Harry really can’t catch a break.

It doesn’t help that Luna keeps shooting him dirty looks.

Regardless of his personal need for everything to just  _ stop,  _ time flies by and before Harry can mentally prepare himself for it, he’s on the field, facing the Slytherin team.

Draco looks unfairly good in his gear.

And naturally, that has him unfairly distracts him through most of the game until his eyes land on a little patch of gold that isn’t his boyfriend’s hair in the sun and he  _ dives.  _

Perhaps a little too hard, but the Snitch is  _ right there.  _

It’s so close he can taste it, just a little bit further, just a little longer-

“-After a surprisingly clean play from Slytherin’s Chaser, Blaise Zabini- _ HARRY POTTER SEES THE SNITCH!  _ The Seekers are off! Potter in the lead, Malfoy close behind him and- _ POTTER’S GOT THE SNITCH!” _

He hears the screaming before the thing closes around his fist, but he’s smiling all the same. Turning around to see Draco’s half annoyed half smiling grin only makes things better.

Until they land, that is.

“Merlin, you really do have it bad, Malfoy. What? The dick so good you’d let your team lose?”

Harry, Ron, Fred,  _ and  _ George turn at Puecy’s voice.

Draco doesn’t even blink. “You’re upset that we lost, we all are. Stop taking it out on me in public.”

Blaise comes to stand by his side, but Puecy isn’t having it.

“Or what? Gonna sick mummy and daddy on me? What? Does she rail him too?”

Harry shrugs off Angelia’s hand on his shoulder, striding right up to Puecy, Ron and the twins flanking him. “Jealous of a healthy relationship?”

“And what would you know of that, Potter?”

Draco steps between the two of them, Blaise slowly raises his wand. “Knock it off, both of you. You’re causing a scene.”

He says it as calmly as he can, but you’d have to be blind to miss the anger rolling off him in waves. It’s much too hot on the Quidditch field for the middle of September.

“A  _ scene?!  _ You’re the one who can’t keep your dick out of your head! Fucking  _ useless _ -”

Harry’s not sure  _ why  _ he does it, perhaps it’s all his pent up anger. Maybe it’s the fact that the word  _ useless  _ is carved into the back of his hand. It’s honestly probably because Draco’s too refined to throw a punch and Harry is not.

Either way, Harry’s fist comes into contact with Puecy’s face and it’s  _ on. _

Twins from both teams jump in, Ron barely doges an elbow, somehow managing to land a punch right on Puecy’s smug face. It’s a mass of black and red and brown hair until a fire starts cackling in the near distance and they’re forced apart.

_ “Have you lost your bloody minds?!”  _ Draco hisses out. He opens his mouth to talk more but is rudely cut off by Harry’s least favorite person in the world.

“What is the meaning of this!”

“That is exactly what we’d like to know!”

They turn to see McGonagall, Snape, and  _ fucking _ Umbitch rushing forward.

“Just a small,”

“Assuredly deserved,”

“Perhaps unplanned-”

“I will ring your necks myself if you don’t shut up.” Hestia hisses.

The twins, Fred and George that is, look mildly offended. Flora sighs like this whole thing is too much trouble.

“Explain yourselves.” 

_ “Now.” _

Thoroughly chastised by both McGonagall  _ and  _ Snape, the squabblers look to the ground, as though grass is suddenly interesting.

Eventually Flora sighs. “It was Puecy’s fault.”

_ “You bitch-” _

“Well it’s true! You came over here, started attacking Draco, and it’s only natural for Potter to get involved when you  _ mentioned his mother!” _

“I did no such thing-”

“It’s true, Professor.” Hestia glares. “Puecy came over to antagonize Draco, Potter got involved, Draco  _ told  _ them to stop but they didn’t listen!”

“And just  _ who _ threw the first punch?” 

The two sets of twins look between each other and Harry sighs.

“It was me. Puecy made a remark about Draco being useless after insisting some foul things about Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and I...I kinda lost it.”

Umbitch is  _ way  _ too happy about the outcome. 

At least McGonagall and Snape are furious.

“Fifty points from Slytherin for this  _ outrageous behavior!”  _ Snape snarls.

McGonagall’s glare has never looked so scary. “Fifty from Gryffindor as well! This behavior is  _ not  _ prohibited at Hogwarts and you  _ know it!  _ I’ll be writing home to your parents!”

“I do believe a detention is required.” Umbitch slides in.

Harry’s blood goes cold.

“Detention sounds lovely.” Harry always knew Snape was a traitor. “Minerva, would you-”

“I can handle it, Severus.” Umbitch pipes up. “A few lines from everyone involved should have them all right by morning.”

“Now, Dolorous-”

“I must insist, Minerva! The Minister would be  _ heartbroken  _ to learn of such violent acts at his most prized school! Clearly, Mister Potter and Mister Puecy will be receiving a lifelong ban from such activities.”

“Surely, as their Heads of House-”

“You’re both too  _ busy  _ as Heads, Severus. I  _ insist.  _ The Ministry  _ insists!” _

Harry knows it’s bad when Snape and McGonagall seem nervous.

It doesn’t begin to describe how he feels.

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


“You can’t go to detention tonight.”

Harry would like, no,  _ love  _ to be celebrating the win back in the common room, but Angelia is pissed at them for getting detention so he finds himself with his friends, ten of them crammed into the Gang’s Room like they’re still hiding their friendship in public.

Angelia’s wrath is nothing in comparison to Draco’s anger.

“I wouldn’t  _ have  _ detention if it weren’t for you  _ idiots!” _

Fred, George, and Ron have the decency to look ashamed, but Harry is kinda on a time crunch here.

He’s currently trying to save his friends from massive amounts of pain, and that’s a little more important than losing his spot on the team, thanks.

“No, you don’t understand, Draco-”

“You listen here Harry Potter!” Draco whirls on him. He’s so angry that the sensible people in the group, Blaise, Hermione, and Pansy, are backed into the far corner with the rest of their friends. Harry sees Luna sending him a ‘I told you so’ look before Draco’s furious face fills his vision.

“That was the  _ stupidest thing you’ve ever done!  _ If you’d just kept your big mouth shut  _ I  _ would’ve dealt with Puecy and  _ you  _ wouldn’t be  _ fucking banned!” _

“The ban isn’t that big of a deal-”

_ “Isn’t a big deal?!” _

Draco’s hair rises like it wants to choke the life out of him, and if the strands of silver decide to do just that it would honestly save him a lot of trouble.

“Listen, damnit Draco!” Harry shoves his hands onto his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I’m trying to tell you something important!”

“Well  _ I  _ was trying to tell  _ you _ something important and-”

_ “She uses blood quills!” _

Draco’s hair dies down instantly.

The rest of their friends creep forward.

“You...what?”

“She...her  _ detentions  _ aren’t  _ detentions.  _ She has the fucking quills and whatever you write it- it  _ sinks into your skin.  _ You can’t go, none of you can!”

Ron takes a step forward, mouth wide open, but the twins beat him to it.

“Is that why you came back from your first detention crying?” Fred asks.

The room takes in a collective breath of air.

Harry shrugs. “Not really, I mean it hurt but there was some other stuff going on and-”

Pansy’s across the room in seconds, grabbing his hands before he can think to pull them away. In an instant the glamorous are gone.

Quidditch scars, callouses, and the fucking  _ slogan  _ are revealed.

It takes all of one second for the room to burst into flames.

By some miracle, the fire doesn’t singe them, merely burns the books, the tables, the  _ rugs.  _ Harry’s pretty sure no one is hurt, or if they are they aren’t saying anything because no one is stupid enough to risk Draco’s wrath.

The funny thing is that Draco, for all his blowing up the room, seems rather calm for the most part. His eyes have gone full black, skin more marble than actual skin, but his hair that should probably be rising is slicked back to his body, like the sheer weight of his anger is keeping it from moving.

Somehow that makes the whole thing more scary.

He doesn’t say a single word.

All Draco does is grab Harry in an iron grip and march him out of the Gang’s Room.

“Draco-”

“Don’t talk if you value your life.” Blaise whispers to his left.

The lot of them march down the halfway, Draco dragging Harry at the front. Ron, Hermione, Pansy and Blasie flank them, the twins, Ginny, and Neville directly behind them, Millie and Theo on either side.

They only have an hour until curfew, not many are out after a Quidditch game in general, but the few that linger in the halls practically  _ bolt  _ at the sight of fire coming off of Draco’s every step.

Harry wisely keeps his mouth shut until he finds himself at a dungeon door.

Draco doesn't even knock.

He barges right in, the rest of them following.

Snape and McGonagall seem as surprised by the meeting as he is.

“Draco, what is the meaning of-”

“I hate to disappoint you further, Severus,” Draco says. His voice could cut steel. “But I’m afraid we won’t be attending detention because  _ someone,”  _ He thrusts Harry’s hand in between the two professors.  _ “Has been using blood quills on their students.” _

Now, Harry has seen some pretty impressive faces on his professors before.

Hell, he was, admittedly, a little terrified of Snape’s glare back in first year before he decided not to care too much. Doesn’t mean the glare isn’t intimidating, just that he got used to it. He’s seen so many nasty looks on that man’s face he really can’t count them all.

And  _ McGonagall!  _ If anyone could stare down ol’ snake for tits and make him cower, it would be her. Her sharp gaze has kept him from doing  _ so  _ many stupid things over the years. One look from her and whatever goofing off he was planning flew straight out the window.

But now, as Harry stands, half leaning thanks to Draco’s iron grip, he watches in horror as his professors cycle through  _ several  _ emotions.

Shock, sadness, shock again, anger,  _ disbelief,  _ and finally rage that Harry’s never seen before.

The tea cup in McGonagall’s hand shatters.

_ “What  _ is the  _ meaning  _ of this?” Snape asks, voice low and dangerous enough to make Harry flinch.

Draco squeezes his wrist, and because Harry values his life and also his hand he starts talking.

“Well, sir, ma’am, I um, when she called me for detention she kinda told me to use her  _ special quill?  _ And I mean, I dunno, I thought she had a thing for quills? Like a kink maybe? The twins found this one about-”

_ “Potter.” _

“Right. Well, um, kinks aside, I guess, she uh? Told me to write lines so I did and they kinda, well, did  _ that.” _

“And you didn’t think to  _ tell anyone?!”  _ Draco hisses before the professors can get a chance.

“I wanted to!” Harry rushes out. “I did, you know I did. You know I can’t keep things from you lot to save my life but I-I just  _ couldn’t.” _

“And why not?” Ron demands from somewhere behind them.

Harry hangs his head. “She had a tiny belt and it looked weird in her hands.”

Several faces turn to look at him, he’s managed to make his professors confused instead of angry, and he really can’t explain it himself, so when Hermione steps forward and places a gentle hand on his shoulder he nearly cries in relief.

“Your aunt has tiny hands and tiny belts too, doesn’t she?”

Harry nods. Just slightly, just enough to let her know that she’s right just like she always is and suddenly the grip on his arm loosens, he’s surrounded by curly brown hair, and Snape’s bookshelf bursts into flames.

_ “Draco.  _ Control yourself. Potter, you and Granger are to stay in this room. Zabini, Draco, Parkinson, floo call your parents and tell them what’s going on,  _ now.  _ Longbottom, your grandmother should be informed, Weasleys your parents as well. Lovegood, I do believe your father runs a paper that might be rather useful right about now.” Snape turns to McGonagall and offers her an arm. “I believe we have some business to attend to.”

There’s a flurry of movement in the room. Hermione releases him only for Draco to take her place, long fingers run through his hair, warmth tugs him as close as it possibly can.

“I’m sorry.” Draco mummers into his hair. “I’ve been smelling your blood for weeks. I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Draco kisses the top of his head, he can hear Katheriene Parkinson screaming from the fireplace. “Do you think we can keep mum and Sirius from murdering her?”

“I hope not.”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Harry knows both from his instincts and his personal experience that Narcissa Malfoy is terrifying. He knows that Lucius, while not as scary, can be  _ intimidating  _ as hell, and he knows for a  _ fact  _ that the two of them combined could probably burn the world down if they ever felt like it.

Somehow, probably due to  _ knowing  _ how scary his boyfriend’s parents are, Harry miscalculated.

He never expected  _ Sirius and Remus  _ to be the most frightening ones in the room.

_ “Explain. Now.” _

Harry glups. 

To say the last hour was painful is a gross understatement.

While Blaise was talking to Belle, Pansy’s mum was apparently flooing over to the Malfoys, because when Draco tried to call them they stepped right through, Katheriene Parkinson in tow, and demanded to see Harry’s hand.

He’s never felt more threated and cared for in his entire life.

Narcissa had pulled him close, a long, surprisingly not at all awkward hug that was ruined only by her promising to kill him if he ever kept anything like this from them again.

Being as awkward as ever, Lucius, thankfully, just patted his head and then started plotting  _ something  _ with Snape’s unused parchment papers, leaving Harry to fend off Katie’s ridiculous need to smother him.

It was all fine and dandy, perhaps a little uncomfortable. Maybe the room grew in waves of heat every now and then, and yes, Draco’s been fighting with Ron and Hermione to stick to him like glue. Blaise’s worried looks and the murderous glint in Pansy’s eyes, combined with Narcissa and Katie casually plotting an  _ actual murder  _ while Lucius schemed did make things a little tense.

But shit hit the fan when Sirius and Remus stormed into Snape’s office from the fireplace.

Harry’s barely even registered Belle Zabini in the room, and they want him to explain?

“Be nice to him, he’s going through shock.” Draco says from his left.

There’s a soothing presence to his left, a safe place to his right, and a solid rock in front of him. All he can focus on is the sudden lack of light and steely silver eyes. Funny, he could’ve  _ sworn  _ that Sirius’s eyes are blue.

A gentle hand comes into contact with his own, he sees more than he registers Remus lightly trailing the words etched there. 

He hates every bit of it. Remus looks like he’s about to  _ cry,  _ and Harry will happily murder whoever the cause of those tears are.

Oh wait.

The cause of the tears is him.

_ Fuck. _

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He tries weakly.

His voice falls on deaf ears. 

It seems as though everyone has frozen. Merely timid deers watching Sirius slowly look at the hand Remus holds so gently.

The room goes dark.

Like completely dark. No firelight, no wall sconces, not even the stars from the open window shine through. Nothing except two fireballs in hands to the left and in front of him.

Narcissa is the first to break the silence. “Sirius, breathe. You’re scaring the children.”

“I’m going to kill her.” A deadly voice replies. It’s not Sirius, it  _ can’t  _ be Sirius. 

Sirius’s voice is light, funny. Tinted with mischief, dripping with care, filled to the brim with devotion. 

This voice...this voice is what Harry imagines Dementors would sound like if they spoke.

One by one, as if they’re afraid to, the lights return. Stars from the window, sconces on each of the four walls, and finally the fireplace.

Sirius’s hands have gone a strange black color. Almost like the darkness is hanging off of him in wisps. “How long?”

“Sir?” 

“How long has this been going on Harry?”

“Since his first detention.” Hermione answers quietly from his right.

_ “From his first- _ that was three weeks ago!”

“Yes, we’re all aware.” Narcissa spits, “That  _ woman  _ will be dealt with.”

“She’s being dealt with currently.” 

They turn to see Snape standing in the doorway, looking more tired than Harry’s ever seen him.

“The rest of you:  _ Out.  _ Mister Potter and I need to have a talk.”

“But-” Sirius starts.

_ “Out.  _ Now.”

“We’re his bloody guardians-”

“Yes, and I am a  _ sodding professor  _ trying to  _ salvage a situation!  _ Remus, if you would.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest, but Belle drags him out before he can. Narcissa and Lucius have to team up to get Sirius out of the room, though Katie dragging him out of the room by the back of his shirt while the Malfoys each take an arm is  _ quite  _ the sight.

Snape turns to the students with a raised eyebrow.

Blaise mutters a string of what sounds like curses, but he and Pansy drag Ron and Hermione out.

“Draco,  _ please.” _

Draco squeezes his hand, giving him the same upset look that Ron did, but does get up.

He closes the door behind him with a foreboding click.

Snape drops into his chair, heaving a big heavy sigh, and reaching into his desk for a weird, admittedly strange gray cat-shaped tin.

“Have a biscuit, Potter, Minerva said you like them.”

Harry stares at the tin. “Did….did she-”

“Force these upon my person despite my  _ many _ refusals? Yes, absolutely. Seeing that my Slytherins have much more...exquisite...tastes, I have yet to open them. Would you care for one or not?”

Thoroughly amused by the thought of McGonagall forcing something on Snape, Harry nods and tentatively takes the tin. The biscuits inside are the exact kind he gets whenever he visits his favorite professor, it makes the situation less awful, even if he has to lean forward to place them back on Snape’s desk.

“Good.” Snape says, then sighs like the evening has completely exhausted him too, “Now, onto unpleasant matters." He eyes the papers on his desk. "I see Lucius already has a plan in mind...”

Harry gulps.

“This is not going to be comfortable for either of us, Potter, but Minerva is unfortunately quelling her rage at the moment and has enlisted me to perform this task until she can….well…”

“Look at me without wanting to kill someone?”

“It is not  _ you  _ we’re upset with.” Snape mumbles.

To Harry’s surprise, he takes a biscuit from the tin and nibbles on it. Strangely, seeing Snape doing something human shocks him more than his suddenly understanding of Sirius being dangerous.

After a moment, the Potion Master sets his half eaten biscuit down. “Potter….tell me you didn’t think such treatment from a professor was acceptable.”

Harry startles.

And no, no he never once thought it was acceptable. He actually, might, have maybe, possibly, registered this sort of treatment to something that Petunia and Vernon would do. Well, maybe not Vernon. That man has  _ no  _ qualms when it comes to abusing children he doesn’t care for.

“No, I didn’t think it was normal...sir.”

“And you allowed it to continue because?”

“I didn’t mean to.” Harry begins.

“I seriously doubt you ever  _ mean  _ to, but that doesn’t negate the fact that you still did. It is...disconcerting to know that you would allow such treatment on your person without a single confidant.” 

“I talked to someone about it!”

“Who?”

Harry squirms in his seat. “I told Geia and Morgana…”

Snape pins him with a stare. “You told the two creatures who would have no way of getting you help, you mean.”

Harry suddenly has a strong urge to kick himself.

“I tried to tell the others, I swear I’m not lying. I did, multiple times. Hel-heck, um, I tried to tell the twins but I just...I  _ couldn’t. _ ”

Snape looks at him. Like,  _ really  _ looks at him. No animosity, no anger, just a blank stare that makes Harry  _ very  _ uncomfortable.

“You...you have your mother’s eyes, did you know that?”

“Yes sir?” Harry asks. “I get that all the time?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve inherited her annoying stubbornness too?”

What? 

What the fuck?

“No, sir? What is- did you  _ know-” _

“Yes, your mother and I were friends for a long time. She had this uncanny ability to be unusually resilient. She never asked for help, even when she sorely needed it, and I find myself overcome with frustration I haven’t felt in a long time. The fact of the matter, Potter, is that you still haven’t explained to me  _ why  _ you didn’t tell anyone. Not being able to is an excuse to hide something, of that much I’m sure, and as much as I wish I didn’t have to do this, I’m afraid I must pry the truth out of you.”

Harry scowls.

“Would you prefer someone you know to interrogate you or a stranger from the Ministry?”

He must be shocked from the admission that  _ Snape  _ was friends with his  _ mum  _ because he ends up nearly jumping over himself to explain.

If there’s one thing he hates more than oversharing it’s the Ministry.

“I just...I don’t really  _ get it,  _ sir. She just..she reminds me of my aunt and uncle.”

“Petunia was always an evil,  _ vile,  _ little creature.”

“So you know her too.” Harry wryly responds.

“Potter. Do  _ not  _ be difficult.”

Harry’s mouth remains closed, Snape just sighs.

_ “Fine.  _ Fine, I will tell you what I’ve decided, then. Given that I was one of the ones advocating for Black and Remus to take you in, you can assume I already knew about the abuse, and it explains quite a lot, so I find myself in a position where I need to remind you, no,  _ implore  _ you to recognize that adults do not  _ harm  _ children.”

“You’re mean to Neville!”

Snape glares at him. “I would  _ never  _ abuse a student! And I’ll have you know that Draco has already  _ thoroughly  _ chided me for my past actions, but I  _ refuse  _ to entertain idiocy!”

“Is that why you still aren’t fond of Sirius?”

“Potter- I-  _ that is not the point of this discussion.  _ Stop trying to change the topic! The point, Potter, is that you  _ must  _ start coming to others for help, especially in situations like these. I understand that you think no one will help, it seems like a lost cause and you might be terrified of your friends thinking of you as  _ broken,  _ but I assure you that is not the case. If anything, and I loathe to admit it, your friends would never let such aggravations go unchecked. You’ve managed to survive  _ five years  _ of life threatening adventures, some pink toad will not be the end of you.”

Harry fumbles around for a response, but comes up with none because he’s pretty sure that  _ Severus Snape  _ just  _ complimented him! _

What is the world coming to?

Seeing that he’s getting nowhere, Snape calls the others back in and gives him the rundown of what happens next.

After calling the Aurors and convening at Dumbledore’s office, Snape and Minerva both gave a memory over for investigation. It was  _ supposed  _ to happen back at the Ministry, but Tonks was one of the Aurors involved, and since Harry was the one hurting she and McGonagall teamed up and bullied the others into watching it in Dumbledore’s Pensive. A few seconds later and Tonks was bustling down the halls to arrest Umbitch herself.

“You couldn’t have let me see her first?” Narcissa complains. “At the very  _ least  _ I think Draco should have a go.”

“I’d say that Harry should get the first go,” Lucius offers.

Sirius waves a hand in his direction, “Harry doesn’t have the heart for torture.  _ I,  _ on the other hand…”

“Sirius, you've already escaped Azkaban once.” Remus sighs.

“That’s exactly why he’d be perfect for the job,” Belle says right as Katie spits out, “The public already thinks he’s golden, they won’t believe anything the Ministry says now. Well, except for the war, of course.”

“Because that’s not important at all.” Blaise mumbles.

Snape clears his throat, addressing the teenagers in the room. “We’ll need a testimony, preferably a memory from you.” He tells Harry.

Draco squeezes his hand, the one he healed  _ several times.  _

“Do I have to?”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Sirius tells him sharply. “You say the words and I’ll take you home right now. We can get a  _ tutor  _ or move you to fucking France if you fancy it.”

Harry smiles up at him, completely ignoring the few indignant noises from his friends and the chastising Narcissa and Remus are giving his godfather.

He feels so…. _ warm.  _

Like the cold from some forgotten cupboard can’t touch him, like he’s safe and dare he say  _ happy.  _ So happy that no aunt or uncle, not even years of abuse, not even the fear of the conversations that are  _ clearly  _ going to happen after this can ruin it.

“You don’t want to leave us, do you?” Ron whispers.

Harry laughs in spite of himself. “Absolutely not.”

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Draco practically drags Harry to see Poppy when Snape kicks them all out.

He still doesn't understand how he missed it.

Harry’s been acting off for  _ weeks.  _ Every time he has detention his shoulder sag, he gets this weird look on his face, he always smells like blood the morning after, and his hands have been  _ way  _ too smooth lately.

He feels so fucking stupid for missing it. 

For not being there.

For not protecting Harry like he’s supposed to.

All the adults make Harry  _ swear  _ to write them, Sirius and Remus both demand an increase in the letters Harry is supposed to send them and Draco honestly can’t blame them.

Pansy and Blaise have been chastised into going straight to their rooms, Snape  _ personally  _ saw Hermione and Ron back to the Gryffindor tower, which leaves Draco dragging a surprisingly compliant Harry all the way to Poppy because he might, possibly, have a tendency to worry a  _ tad  _ too much.

Not that it isn’t totally justifiable. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Harry mumbles behind him.

Draco freezes on the spot.

Harry must not be expecting it, because he rams straight into Draco’s back, nearly making them stumble.

“Harry-”

He tries to turn around, to face his boyfriend and the Potter headache he hasn’t had in a year, but Harry wraps his arms around Draco’s waist and keeps him pinned there.

“Please let me say this.”

Draco nods.

“I….I don’t like to talk, or even think, really, about the bad things that happen. They just, well, they just kinda happen, but life goes on, you know? What the Dursleys did to me doesn’t change who I am, and I don’t want it to. I….I can never thank Sirius and Remus in a way that will truly convey how grateful I am for everything they’ve done. I can hardly thank Ron and Hermione for everything they’ve done for me and I….I guess I got too used to good things happening, so when something bad  _ did  _ happen, I just kinda assumed it would go away too.”

Harry heaves a deep sigh that brushes the back of Draco’s neck and makes him shiver.

“I tried to talk to the twins about it, but I  _ couldn’t.  _ And I don’t know why, I knew it was stupid but I didn’t want to sound weak. It’s a  _ sodding  _ teacher for fuck’s sake. I knew it wasn’t right, and I know I should’ve said something, and  _ Draco.  _ I  _ lied _ to you….I lied to  _ Hermione _ ...I even- to _Ron_ __ and I've never lied to him and I-”

Draco does turn this time, because no matter how much Harry asks him to listen he refuses to hear this shit. Instead he whirls on the spot, dislodging Harry’s arms, and takes Harry’s chin into his left hand. Then he kisses Harry straight on the mouth.

Not much. Not to start something they won’t finish, maybe to calm and soothe him, but mostly just to shut him up.

“Are you done being dramatic?”

Harry nods.

“Good. Listen,” Draco runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not pleased about the lying, obviously, but I  _ know  _ you, Harry Potter. You probably thought you were, oh I don’t know, shielding us from the horrors of the world or something equally moronic and heroic. But I’m not mad at you. You…” Draco sighs, “You have this infuriating notion that you have to do everything by yourself and you  _ don’t.  _ Do you understand me? Ron and Hermione have been with you since we were  _ eleven.  _ And, yes, I might have been a right prat, but I was  _ always  _ watching out for you. Always. I think the world might end before Pansy lets you out of her sight again, and I hope you know Blaise is probably blacklisting Umbitch from everything he can think of at this very moment. You just...we’re your  _ friends,  _ Harry. We care about you. We’d do anything for you, but you have to trust us and tell us things like this.”

“I do trust you!” Harry says immediately. “I trust you five with my life, and I just-”

“It doesn’t matter-”

_ “It does.  _ To me it does. You- you  _ have  _ to know that I trust you. I-”

Draco pulls him close before he can say anything else.

The fact of the matter is that Draco would willingly spend the rest of his life protecting Harry Potter, but Harry Potter doesn’t necessarily  _ need  _ protection.

He’s fucking powerful all on his own. He can fend off attacks from some of the deadliest duelist, he’s faced ol’ Tomcat too many times to count, he’s been stuck on his own for so  _ long  _ that he probably has more survival instincts than any of them.

But when Draco holds Harry in his arms…

When Harry’s trembling and shaking, clutching at his back like it’s the only thing keeping him up, how can he not feel protective?

How can he not think of a little boy, locked away in a damp, dark room? Of a kid wondering if he’ll get another meal, or the boy who thought it was a hallucination when Remus came to get him. He remembers with striking clarity when he walked in on Crouch Jr. and saw Harry casually sitting like having bruises on his face and cuts on his body was  _ normal.  _

He holds Harry a little tighter and vows to protect Harry from the one thing that might really do him in; his own damn sense of reality.

“Am I being stupid?” Harry mumbles into his chest.

Draco kisses the top of his head. “No. You’re not.”

“I’m sorry for lying to you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

“Draco-”

“No, Harry. Love,  _ darling,  _ I should’ve put it together. I didn’t. You probably shouldn’t have lied, but that’s as easy as not lying again. Deal? No more lying, no more guilt, and no more teachers causing you bodily harm unless you want me to become a murderer.”

“You’re already a murderer.” Harry chuckles.

“I’ve killed  _ one  _ person! And he bloody well deserved it!”

Harry laughs, an actual, really, filled with fondness laugh.

Draco pulls away just to kiss him as sweetly as possible.

This time, when they restart on their track to see Poppy, Harry falls into place next to him, their fingers slotted together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really not mad? I seem to recall our room bursting into flames.”

“I assure you it was a mere slip on my control.”

Harry snorts.

“At least I didn’t burn her, it was a very tempting thought.”

“You wouldn’t.” Harry asks, all fake shock and slight amusement in his eyes.

“I thought about it,” Draco admits because he did. He’s sure there’s a bonfire that would go  _ swimmingly  _ with Umbitch’s horrid outfit choices. “But her current outcome is much worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, once the memory you gave to Severus is looked over, she’ll likely be thrown into Azkaban for a few years, and since mum and dad are involved they’ll probably sit her on the highest level. Sirius might even pitch in that favor Kingsley owes him to make sure she doesn't have a pink  _ anything  _ on her. Katie’s probably already arranging a  _ humiliating  _ article, and knowing Belle, her prison outfit will be the most uncomfortable thing ever.”

“I thought they were standard? Sirius said they were surprisingly comfortable.”

“They’re standard if you’re most people, and Belle Zabini is anything but most people.”

Harry laughs.

When they finally make it to the Hospital Wing, Poppy is waiting for them, thinly veiled fury in her eyes.

“I should poison her myself.” She mummers, looking over Harry’s hand.

Then she remembers that two students are in front of her and quickly smiles. “You didn’t hear that.”

“Hear what?” Draco says, and though he’ll probably never admit it, he really, really,  _ really  _ loves Poppy Pomfrey.

Poppy, because she worries like Draco does, forces Harry to stay overnight. “Just in case,” she says, already getting two beds ready because she knows damn well that Draco isn’t going anywhere.

It takes all of an hour for Ron, Hermione, Pansy, and Blasie to sneak into the room and curl up in random places.

Ron pulls over a third bed, not growing at all when the girls pile into one and leave him sharing with Blasie.

“She’s lucky Tonks got her.” Ron says darkly.

Hermione shoots him a look. “We didn’t come here for that.”

“Really? Because I, personally, would  _ love  _ to ruminate on all the unsavory things I’d like to do to that  _ bitch.” _

Pansy sneers at Draco, producing a bunch of papers in her hands. “We came for relaxation, you dimwit.”

Draco squeals in delight.

Ron and Harry protest something  _ fierce  _ at the idea of wearing a facemask, but Pansy and Hermione distract Ron with nail painting and Blaise shoves a chocolate into Harry’s mouth, leaving Draco to place the sheet mask on before he can blink.

Sure, it’s a little weird to have an impromptu sleepover, complete with face masks, Pansy’s gossip, and chocolate, in the middle of Poppy’s hospital, but the mediwitch doesn’t come out of her room to complain once.

Not even when Ron accidently gets a mouth full of mask and curses Pansy into the grave. Not even when Pansy’s loud laughs cover up the sounds of Blaise’s complaints, overshadowed by Hermoine spewing fun facts about skin care that sounds suspiciously like one of Pansy’s rants.

Draco leans back in his own shared hospital bed, Harry tucked underneath his arm and watching the whole thing fondly.

They deserve a bit of careless, albeit weird, fun, he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope it was up to your expectations! be warned though, i have a path if i decide to keep umbitch around and a bath if i decide to toss her out, i'm just not sure which path to take...yet
> 
> harry: i need three to seven business months to come to terms with my emotions  
> umbitch, trying to hurt his friends: you get five seconds
> 
> draco, admiring harry on a broom: :)  
> draco, when he sees harry chasing after the snitch: oh fuck-
> 
> harry, getting into a fight:  
> the twins and ron: well, we can't just let him do it alone
> 
> draco: i will kill anyone who hurts harry and that's that  
> snape: we're sending umbitch to azkaban  
> draco: this doesn't mean i can't kill her
> 
> narcissa: i wonder how the boys are doing  
> katie, flooing over and overly anger: are you down for murder?
> 
> lucius, trying to show normal affection: this is weird  
> lucius, plotting murder, a few torture sessions, perhaps a scandal: much better
> 
> snape: have a biscuit  
> harry: this is the strangest thing you've ever said to me 
> 
> harry's friends, being over protective:  
> harry, on the verge of crying: i love you guys
> 
> harry: my godfathers are cuddly and completely nonthreatening  
> harry, after seeing sirius angry: my godfathers are terrifying and i love them
> 
> poppy, hearing extra children in her hospital: should i say something?  
> poppy, hearing ron cursing and pansy laughing: eh, it's fine


	17. Letters, baths, and choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We did.”

Harry finds himself writing letters to the point that his hands cramp. 

He writes to Sirius and Remus, sending them both updates in different letters because  _ yes  _ they live in the same house but they’re  _ two different  _ people so Harry insists on giving them two separate letters. He writes to Belle and Katie because he can tell that they’re worried even if they don’t show it. Short, simple, straight to the point letters to let them know he’s fine and that Pansy and Blaise are angry enough to keep him in line. He does  _ not  _ tell them that their children are angry at the world instead of him, but it’s a small detail that surely doesn’t hurt to be glazed over. 

He writes to the Malfoys, assuring Narcissa that he is, in fact,  _ fine  _ so she can stop sending him ridiculous care packages every day, lets Lucius know that he’s working on his mind shields still, and that he might be forever in debt to the man for freeing them all of the horrid toad. He writes to  _ several  _ Ministry employees, sending off memories and, with Luna’s help, photos of his hand.

The letter to Ellios is his least favorite.

In a rare, half impressive half annoying, joint force, every last one of his friends somehow bullied him into seeing the Mind Healer. It took all of one day for Draco to drag him into the Gang’s Room, an hour for Ron and Hermione to have their go at him, an unnerving five minutes with the Weasleys, a strangely calming talk with Pansy and Blaise, some, as always, confusing insight from Luna, and a conjoint effort of the rest of his friends yelling at him.

He really thought he’d won the argument when he said he’d only go to Ellios if someone else did, but then several of his friends laughed.

Turns out, Hermione has been seeing Ellios since the  _ first fucking day.  _ She’d naturally dragged Ron along, and since Ron was being open about his life, the twins and Ginny joined in. Ginny told Luna, who thought it would be interesting, and she shared with Astoria, who shared with Daphne, who got Millie into therapy. And since Millie was always talking about it and Draco was forced into it, Theo found himself going to see Ellios, dragging Neville along too. Of course, all of their friends were going, so Pansy and Blaise wouldn’t  _ dare  _ be left out.

Really, it’s just like him to be late to the party.

Going to therapy...it’s not easy. Ellios jumped in right off the bat, asking all kinds of questions that made him too uncomfortable to breath. Most of their early sessions ended with him running out of the room in tears, only stopping when one of his friends found him and forced him to calm down.

By the end of September, Harry has sufficiently embarrassed himself in front of  _ several  _ people. Luna found him the first time, and she just knelt next to him and talked about nonsensical things until he laughed. Theo was the next unlucky bastard, and he’d been so gobsmacked that he’d gone all clammy and nervous, which was  _ hilarious.  _ Millie surprisingly takes finding him in stride, always offering sweets out of nowhere in shows of magic probably meant for children. Neville is just like Theo, too flustered and surprised to do anything but rant about Herbology.

His closer friends make things a little bearable.

The twins just have a certain  _ way  _ of cheering people up. Ginny always punches him and tells him that she can kill Ellios if Harry really wants her to. She won’t, she never will, but the mere thought makes Harry laugh. Blaise takes to carrying a green handkerchief around, teasing Harry about how it’s  _ his special Harry Rag,  _ but the material of the stupid thing is charmed with calming effects, smells a bit like Draco, and Harry’s always so touched when Blaise wipes his tears away, teasing cloth present or not. Pansy’s not at all gentle, but she has an effective way of distracting him. Every time she finds him, she hexes him until he’s standing and then drags him to the art wings. Before he had no idea these rooms existed, but he’s so thankful to know them now. To sit by Pansy and listen to her explain color theory and how painting helps her with her clothing skills, to help her cut fabric and hold pins as she makes Jasmine’s bridesmaids dresses.

Ron is somewhere in the middle of them. Sometimes he hugs Harry quickly, pulling away to wipe his tears and talk about stupid things like nothing was ever wrong to begin with. Other times he’ll stare at Harry, yank him up right, and take him flying.

Hermione is the exact opposite. 

Whenever she finds Harry, she simply drags him to the Gang’s Room, sits next to him in front of the fireplace, and reads to him. She always lets Harry pick the book, they’re halfway through some wizard’s comedy, and the way she turns her nose up at some of the blatant lies in the book always makes Harry fill to the brim with affection.

Then there’s Draco.

Sometimes he’ll just sit next to Harry, pulling him close until he’s in Draco’s lap. He’ll hand him food, take him to the Gang’s Room to cuddle, read or talk quietly about his day while Harry relishes in his voice. Sometimes he’ll hold Harry like he might break, and others he takes a page out of Ron’s book and forces him to fly.

It’s the day before the first Hogsmeade trip that Harry finally has enough and goes to Ellios, all red in the face because he’s tired of being a burden to his friends over  _ memories  _ and  _ feelings. _

“We can’t keep doing this.”

Ellios, the smug bastard, just raises their eyebrow. “You intend to stop seeing me?”

“No.” Harry says because, although he wants to, every last one of the adults in his life would kill him if he did that. “No, I don’t-I mean, can’t we find some other way to do that doesn’t leave me making a fool out of myself?”

Ellios thinks for a minute, and that’s how Harry finds himself sitting in their office, adding another person to his growing letter list.

At least Hedwig won’t have to deliver this one.

Writing it out is easier, Harry thinks.

He has time to actually  _ digest  _ what he’s saying, make sense of his words before they come out. Ellios doesn't get the chance to pry with questions, to lead him off on some tangent, to come to some grand conclusion that leaves him reeling. It’s mindless almost. Like another bit of homework, only this one revolves around him, how he’s feeling, what  _ really  _ keeps him up at night. In a way it relieves him a bit. Paper can’t spill all his secrets, it can’t do anything but let Harry write whatever he wants.

It’s nice, actually.

  
  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  


“You're going to end up with grey hair before your father does.”

“Shut up.”

Draco rolls back in his bed, further away from Blaise and Lulu, which isn’t very far considering that they’re in Draco’s bed that only allows for so much space.

There’s a lot on his mind.

Immediately after Umbitch’s arrest there’d been a trial. Neat, nearly wrapped up, and with his father’s hands all over it. Clearly they’d been investigating her before Harry came into the picture, and since they view Harry as one of their own, his parents weren’t about to let  _ any  _ mistreatment slide.

Simply put, that’s one less problem Draco has to worry about.

But it’s created so many new problems in its wake.

Harry’s the most obvious one. They have to be somewhat sneaky about cheering him up because he only accepts help when they find him-  _ if  _ they find him. Hermione and Ron have been sneaking more food onto his plate so he doesn’t notice that he’s been serving himself less and less, Theo’s taken to acting embarrassed about every little thing so Harry doesn’t feel weirded out by everyone’s concern. Millie’s even got Astoria and Daphne keeping an eye on the corridors so they can get someone if Harry has a moment.

And he’s been having lots of those lately.

Staring into nothing, running into things, trying to eat less, not paying attention in class, but the worst is when Draco finds him crying. Draco’s  _ always  _ the one to find him crying.

It’s only happened twice now, once after his first session with Ellios and the last time he visited the Mind Healer. But it doesn’t matter that it’s only been two times because  _ once  _ is far too much in his opinion.

Not that Harry doesn’t have a lot to cry about it. Quite frankly, if any of them get the right to cry randomly it’s Harry, Theo, and Draco. 

Less the right to cry and more the fact that it breaks Draco’s heart and makes his Veela near uncontrollable.

He’s getting better, which is promising, but Draco still worries.

How can he not with everything else going on?

He and Hermione are almost done with their coins and every single day that they waste is another day a Slytherin turns up with unexplained injuries. 

It started slowly at first. Just small gossip during the first few days after Umbitch’s arrest. But that small gossip quickly turned into small threats, small meetings in the halls, until Conor came running and told him that a group of Ravens attacked again, this time a fucking first year. 

Really, he thought it was bad before, but the news of Umbitch being in Slytherin  _ and  _ hurting Harry Potter apparently only egged the situation on. He still can’t believe that  _ she  _ was in  _ his  _ house for fuck’s sake, much less how bold the other students are getting, and the worst part is that all the teachers are now under investigation! 

With the news of that, everyone, even  _ Snape  _ is preparing for the worst. Hiding their secrets, making their classrooms clean and friendly, McGonagall is the only sane one, and sure, Snape hides his panic well, but Draco  _ knows  _ his godfather and if the Board doesn’t have something to say about his relationship with Ellios, they’ll definitely have something to say about the Dark Mark branded on his arm.

And that brings him back to the coins and the influx of hurt Slytherins  _ and  _ the fact that he doesn’t have the faintest clue on how he’s going to make them accept the coins.

Fact of the matter is that Slytherins don’t just  _ trust  _ people. 

That trust has to be earned, and just because  _ some people  _ are getting targeted doesn’t mean they’re  _ all  _ getting targeted. They’re proud, stubborn, and he knows something awful is going to have to happen before they bloody  _ listen  _ to him.

He just hates the fact that he won’t be able to protect them from the bad  _ before  _ it happens too. 

A little voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Harry tells him to just  _ force  _ protection on them, but the bigger voice in his head that sounds a lot like his mum, actually, tells him that forcing things on Slytherins never goes right and, well, he loves Harry, but he’ll probably always listen to his mother first.

On the plus side, he and Poppy have moved on from healing cuts and gashes, all things involving blood, really, to resetting bones, which is becoming increasingly useful.

Another positive is that he’ll see his mother and father tomorrow, along with the rest of the rowdy adults he secretly loves. They’ll give him updates no one else is privy to and that is exactly why he loves them.

If they could help him figure out how to fix the fact hat Defense classes have just  _ stopped  _ that would be great too.

Draco sighs, absently petting LuLu so her purring can calm him down. Blaise doesn’t say anything, just idly flips between working on his Charms essay and watching the book playing on their ceiling.

What he needs is a bath. 

A nice, long, thoughtful,  _ relaxing  _ bath.

And you know, that might just help with one of his issues.

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


“You brought your swim trunks?”

Harry brittles in front of him, it’s a cute motion. 

All it took was one ‘text’ to Harry on the ‘cell phone’ thing he still doesn’t fully grasp. Hermione said he’d be fond of it eventually, and after Harry agreed to meet him at the Perfect’s Bathroom, well, she’d be right. 

He flushes ever so slightly, pout already setting on his lips. “You said the bathroom and I thought we’d go on a swim.”

“A swim in the bathtub?”

“It’s big enough…”

Draco laughs, pulling Harry inside. “You do know I've seen you naked like twice right?”

“That’s different! You  _ heard  _ what Pomphrey said!”

“Poppy was exaggerating, besides, we’re not ready.”

“We’re not?”

“Harry,” Draco sighs. He deposits his boyfriend near the tub, starting the water with a flick of his wand so he can rummage through his bag. “Love,  _ darling.” _

The bright blush from Harry’s face to his neck is enough of an answer to  _ that  _ question. For Merlin’s sake, he still blushes when he kisses Draco’s cheek.

But that doesn’t mean Draco can’t tease him.

He steps forward, idly emptying bath contents into the water as he walks along the edge of the pool to where Harry is fidgeting. Once he’s close enough he simply makes eye contact and sets the bottle down.

Harry’s face immediately implodes. 

_ Ready his ass.  _

To his credit, Harry doesn’t back away when Draco steps towards him. He just shivers as Draco spells the water to stop, eyelids briefly covering those stunning emerald eyes Draco might be in love with. 

Draco slides a hand up Harry’s arm, using the other one to pull him close.

It’s not an innocent kiss, but it’s also not their most heated one. It sends his favorite swooping feeling down to his stomach, something hot and violent taking over when Harry shivers.

Kissing Harry is  _ always  _ a good solution to Draco’s over thinking. 

Innocent pecks on his forehead and cheeks always leave him a stuttering mess, not that anyone notices. Kisses like this cloud over his brain, leaving him in some sort of pleasant fog filled with  _ want.  _

He  _ wants  _ Harry. Wants him closer, warmer, wants to breath him in because it’s always so much easier to breathe when Harry’s around. 

The only problem is that he’s been bred to resist want, to be in control as much as he can be.

So Draco tears his mouth away from Harry’s panting one, moving down his jaw until he’s leaving a trail of kisses on Harry’s neck, hands casually undoing a Gryffindor tie.

Harry, thankfully, is not trained to resist. He withers under Draco’s kisses, gasps when Draco starts unbuttoning his shirt, grips his arms tightly when Draco slides a hand over the skin of his back so he can kiss Harry properly again.

“What do you think?” Draco asks, pulling away and resisting the urge to laugh as Harry tries to follow his lips.

Emerald eyes flutter open, pupils wide and blown out. Harry has to blink a few times, flex the fingers over Draco’s arm, and take a deep breath. “Huh?”

Draco can’t resist a small laugh. “Get undressed, you idiot. You’re taking a bath.”

“I-  _ We’re  _ not taking a bath?”

“We are, but you’re going first.”

Harry pouts, but does release him so he can wander back over to his bag and finish collecting small items.

He waits until he hears a splash that lets him know Harry is, in fact, in the water before he turns around. 

“Come closer to the ledge. Sit on one of the seats.”

He’s so  _ compliant  _ these days. Listening to whatever people say, following instructions, never fighting back even though it sometimes takes him a second to respond. Draco  _ hates  _ it. 

Harry’s always fighting something.

There’s Riddle Fiddle, general rules and regulations, usually a teacher in the mix, or at the very least corrupt morals. He shouldn’t listen to easily. Shouldn’t move over without a word like Draco might hurt him if he doesn’t. It should’ve taken more than Luna’s light airy voice to get him to send letters to the Ministry- Harry fucking  _ hates  _ the Ministry! It shouldn’t be so easy for Severus to back down after not getting a rise out of Harry in class; he shouldn’t be numbly listening to McGonagall’s every word; shouldn’t be following one of the Gang around like some sort of lost puppy.

Draco hates to admit it, but Harry’s not a fucking follower. He’s a god damn  _ leader  _ who drags people in, against their will, with too much charm and reckless ideas. People  _ listen  _ to Harry. They know that he’s a force to be reckoned with from his will alone and Draco can’t stand the meek actions of his fearless, reckless,  _ lovely  _ boyfriend.

So, like anyone would do, Draco takes his bath supplies over to a patiently waiting Harry, dumps them on the floor, snatches Harry’s glasses right off his face, tugs him back by the rat’s nest on his head, and kisses the life out of him.

There’s a muffled noise of surprise before Harry responds, moving back against Draco and for a second the spark is back, Harry’s fighting against him with tongues and lips and it’s so,  _ so  _ good. But then Harry stops fighting, stops doing anything but letting Draco lead, so he pulls away again.

“Get your hair wet.”

Harry does. He makes little noises when Draco scrubs through his hair, small moans if Draco accidently tugs, shivers when he does it on purpose. He sighs when Draco washes shampoo from his head, hums along to the little tune Draco’s singing as Draco threads conditioner through the bottom of his locks.

“You’re hair is longer than mine these days.” 

“Should I cut it?”

“Do you normally?” Draco asks, picking up a bottle specifically meant to magically take care of split ends, dead hair, and lack of proteins. 

Harry shrugs, still letting Draco do whatever he wants. “I typically cut it with kitchen scissors when I leave the Dursleys, but since I’m living with Sirius and Remus I don’t really know how I’m supposed to go about it.”

“Do you  _ want  _ to cut it?”

Harry shrugs again, Draco lets the conversation drop.

He has Harry turn around in the bath so he can wash his face. Draco’s pulled out all the fancy stuff for today. He’s got exfoliator, special face wash that Blaise has to get for him, a lip scrub just to mess with Harry because his lips are  _ very  _ sensitive.

Harry sits still, not flinching once when Draco scrubs him down, even when Draco gently cleans his lips all he does is sigh softly.

He does turn red as a tomato and look away when Draco undresses so he can get in the tub too.

“Look at me.”

Green eyes peer up at him, much greener than usual because of the blush, all shy and happy and Draco can’t resist. He surges forward, careful not to overstep any boundaries, and kisses Harry again.

When they pull apart they’re both panting, so Draco summons a washcloth over to them and starts with Harry’s arms, his chest, his hands. Turns him so he can clean his neck, his shoulders, his back. He stops right above Harry’s butt, heat creeping up his neck.

“I can do it.” Harry whispers. 

It’s the first time since the middle of September that he’s tried to be independent instead of letting people do things for him, so Draco hands him the wash cloth and turns to grab his own body wash.

He’s just rinsed off his legs when there’s a touch on his back. “Can I?”

“Yeah.”

Harry’s compliance makes a lot more sense now.

His hands are gentle as he rubs little circles onto Draco’s back, kisses like brushes of a feather up his spine and on his shoulder, cloth warming his arms and his neck. It makes him feel warm. Safe,  _ wanted.  _

No wonder Harry’s been blindly going along with this whole thing. 

As Harry turns him to wash his chest, Draco can’t help but talk, just a little.

“You know, the last time I took a nice bath was during the tournament.”

“Really?”

“Really. I thought that since it calmed us both down back then it might help now.”

Harry pauses, cloth stilling by Draco’s throat. “You don’t have another egg, do you? No offense but I’m not going in the stupid lake again.”

“You wouldn’t?” Draco teases, leaning down to kiss Harry’s nose.

Harry looks away. “I’d do it if you asked me to, but I’d be very unhappy about it.”

“You’d do anything if I asked you to.”

Harry blushes, resuming his cleaning anyways. After a moment Draco takes mercy on him, prying his hands away gently so he can press a sweet kiss to the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth. “Relax. I’m not planning on asking you anything you don’t want to do.”

“And here I thought you were buttering me up for something.”

“Not quite.” Draco says, turning so Harry can undo his bun and wash his hair. “I just wanted some alone time.”

“And to see me naked.”

“Yes, that too.”

Harry snorts, hands massaging Draco’s scalp.

“I….I haven’t been a good boyfriend lately, have I?”

Draco tries not to startle, this is a part of his plan afterall. He’s taken notice that Harry sort of opens up when water’s around. Last year in the tournament worked like a charm to get some information out of him, even if Draco was just trying to calm him down. After his first nightmare at the Black Manor, all it took was a shower for Draco to hear about his ‘visions’. He won’t mess this up by interrupting, especially when Harry’s tugging slightly on his hair, finally  _ talking  _ with them instead of brushing them off and keeping things with Ellios secret.

“They just….they want me to talk about things I don’t want to talk about, and I know it’s supposed to be good for me because Hermione says it is, and Ron agrees with her and when they team up they’re nearly always right but I don’t like it. I don’t know anything about them, and I’m supposed to tell them all my secrets? It makes me uncomfortable. And then you all keep  _ finding me  _ before I can  _ get my shit together  _ and I just-”

Draco turns very carefully so he doesn’t get shampoo in his eyes, then presses Harry into his chest.

“You don’t have to have your shit together. That’s what your friends, your real friends, are for.”

“But you always have your shit together.” Harry mumbles into his neck.

Draco snorts. “Go ask Pans and Blaise Bear about that. If it weren’t for them I’d definitely be dead by now, Merlin, they had to make me sign a  _ blood oath  _ in  _ third year.  _ And it hasn’t gotten better. I’ll have you know that I was literally lying in bed with Blaise an hour ago because I could not, in fact, get my shit together.”

“Is it the Slytherins again?”

Draco leans down to kiss his shoulder. “That, and a million other things.”

“Normal fifteen year olds don’t have to worry about a million things.”

“Love, we couldn’t  _ stand it  _ if we were normal.”

Harry hums in agreement, pulling away so he can wash shampoo off of Draco all while maintaining eye contact.

They don’t get out even though they’re both clean. Instead they lounge on the seats of the bath, talking about any and everything. 

Draco tells Harry about his worries with the coins, how his studying for OWLs is going, how Severus won’t let him come to brew whenever he wants until the fucking inspection is done. He talks about how excited he is to see his parents, how he’s planning for Blaise’s birthday that’s in a week, how he  _ knows  _ Theo and Millie are expecting something and how happy he is that Hermione liked  _ her  _ birthday presents. He goes on and on about Poppy’s latest teachings, how annoyed he is at the lack of Defense classes, how his sessions with Ellios are going.

Harry, in turn, tells him about Ron’s hovering and Hermione’s new Defense plans. How the twins and Ginny are teaming up with his best friends to bully him into teaching, how he’s probably gonna say yes after he talks it through with Remus and Sirius. He talks about his new ‘letter therapy’ he and Ellios are trying out, how he’s both endeared and exasperated at the gift baskets Narcissa, Belle, and Katheriene are sending him. How Molly sent him a blanket charmed with her own magic to always be the perfect temperature, how she’s taken to sending him food that he and Ron share with their dorm mates. 

Eventually, when they’re both yawning and exhausted, Draco summons towels and they both step out.

He rubs lotion and moisturizer onto Harry’s skin before doing the same to himself. Makes Harry put  _ product  _ in his hair, and Harry even argues with him over it.

“I don’t need to put this stuff in! This is what  _ Hermione  _ uses!”

“It is not. It’s not even  _ real product,  _ it’s just Sleezy’s hair care. It’ll help with your curls, love.”

“Sleezy? You want me to put something called  _ Sleezy’s  _ on my body?”

Draco rolls his eyes, “Your great great grandfather came up with that.”

“I know. But the name is just….”

He puts it in his hair anyways.

They put on pajamas, kissing sweetly in between articles of clothing, pausing to make out as they clean up and head towards the door.

“This was nice.” Harry says.

Draco has him pressed against the wall, head leaning back while he fiddles with the front of Draco’s favorite satin sleep shirt. Draco leans forward for another kiss.

“We should do it more often.”

“Why? So you can see me naked?”

Draco raises an eyebrow, still idly kissing down Harry’s jaw. “You like seeing me naked too.”

Harry flushes, but he laughs and it’s the first time Draco’s heard him snorting since Umbitch was arrested. 

He makes a metal note to force Harry in the Perfect’s tub at least once a week.

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  
  


The next morning Draco amends his mental note.

He’s forcing Harry into the bathroom  _ every single night.  _

His dumb boyfriend makes his way through the group waiting to go to Hogsmeade, not even noticing the looks he’s getting.

And  _ Merlin help him,  _ Harry looks good.

It’s Saturday so he’s dressed down- wearing one of Draco’s  _ fucking jumpers.  _ The green one he spent a week looking for before they came to Hogwarts. He’s tucked it into black sweatpants, black trainers that Narcissa bought him even as he tried to tell her not to.

But it’s not the clothing that catches Draco’s breath this time.

It’s  _ him. _

The fact that his eyes are slightly greener, face all tan and smooth, practically  _ glowing,  _ really. And his  _ hair.  _ His  _ fucking hair!  _ Unlike the typical long rat’s nest, Harry’s dark curls flow down, like a tumbling black waterfall and it’s completely unfair. For Merlin’s sake it is  _ ten in the morning  _ and that is far too early to be thinking about the things he’d like to do to his boyfriend.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.” Pansy tells him.

Draco doesn’t bother looking away. “No better than you and ‘Mione.”

Pansy smacks him on his chest and he still can’t look away until Harry’s standing in front of them, Ron and Hermione following close behind.

“Good Morning.” Harry smiles brightly. It looks like the  _ sun.  _ Draco wants to fucking  _ snog him!  _ “I’ve been getting a lot of questions about my hair? What did you  _ really  _ do to it last night?”

“Something amazing.” Pansy mummers, reaching up to touch it and pulling away in shock. 

“Is it that soft?” Blaise asks, “It looks soft- _ Merlin!  _ Draco! What did you do?”

“Sleezy’s.” Draco breathes.

Ron nods. “That’ll do it. Trust his family to be the only ones to tame his hair.”

“Does it normally look bad?”

“Not bad!” Hermione amends, she too is looking at Harry’s hair like it’s a miracle. “Just...not like this. Whatever Draco did is definitely an improvement.”

“I’m ordering you a crate of it tonight.”

“Draco!”

“And we’re getting some while we’re out.”

“But why?”

Draco leans forward, ignoring the faint smell of honey and treacle tart. “Because I currently want to snog you until you can’t think and it’s not because you’re wearing my jumper.”

He pulls back to see Harry’s completely red face. Pansy immediately starts picking on him until Hermione pulls her and Ron into a conversation about Astrology. Blasie is thankfully too busy with Neville and Theo to notice the sudden blush, and that leaves Harry opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“You can’t just  _ say  _ things like that!”

“And why not? My boyfriend is hot and I’d like to kiss him brainless.”

If it’s possible, Harry’s blush deepens. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

He’s saved from more teasing by McGonagall’s voice, telling them all to be careful, come back on time, and that Severus and her will be in the town with other teachers if something happens.

Their little group quickly grows on the walk down, other joining them until eight turns into fifteen. At the entry of Hogsmeade they all split up, leaving the original six of them to venture into the Three Broomsticks.

Narcissa spots them first, but Sirius and Remus are the first ones to reach them.

They pull Harry in for a hug, then pull back and look at him in shock. “Did...did you do something to your hair?”

“Draco made me.”

Lucius laughs quietly at that. “Sleezy’s?”

Draco nods.

They exchange greetings, he gets a hug from his cousin and cousin in-law, a kiss on his cheek from his mother, Belle, and Katie, Lucius pats him awkwardly on his shoulder before they all file into an extended booth, adults on one side and teenagers on the other.

Remus excuses himself to get food for the table, Narcissa puts up a privacy charm.

She has the decency to wait for Remus and food to return before she starts her questioning.

“Start talking. Harry, love, tell us how you are.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Did you put Veritaserum in my eggs?”

“I’m giving you the chance to be honest before I force you to be.”

“Right...well, I’m getting better. Ellios and I have started a new therapy thing, I guess.”

“A new therapy thing?” Sirius echoes.

“Yep. I uh, I was uncomfortable talking so we’re doing it through letters now.”

Blaise peers over Pansy and Hermione. “Does this mean we won’t be finding you in random corners anymore?”

“Shut up, Blaise.”

“-finding you in corners?!”

“Harry had an intense reaction to some of the sessions.” Draco says, giving Sirius and Remus a look that clearly says  _ drop it.  _

And, because they’re idiot Gryffindors, they don’t. “What do you mean ‘intense reaction’? They aren’t hurting you, are they? Because if they are-”

“They’re not!” Harry yelps. “They’re actually a really good-  _ look,  _ not all teachers are Umbitch- I mean  _ Umbridge  _ and I-”

“How is Umbitc- _ Umbridge?”  _ Ron asks, leaning over to look at the Slytherin parents.

They, thankfully, take the fucking hint.

“Her trial finished yesterday, she’ll be sent to Azkaban tomorrow morning, I’m sure you’ll hear about it in the paper.”

“And what, exactly, is she going to Azkaban for?” Hermione asks.

Lucius takes a casual sip of his tea. “Her official charge is mistreatment of students, which earned her a ban from teaching, though I added a restriction of her interacting with children in general for good measure. I was planning on getting her sacked as a favor to the goblins, she’s been laundering money from them for some time now, but the stunt she pulled with Harry was more important, so I tacked that on as an extra charge. All in all, she’ll only serve five years in prison, but five years with Dementors should be enough to rid us of her unfortunate behavior.”

“You’re terrifying.” Harry whispers in awe. “It’s very impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Go on,” Sirius snorts. “Tell them about the ban.”

“The ban?”

Lucius frowns, “In regards to your life long Quidditch ban, I got it overruled as personal bias with intent to cause psychological harm. By Monday you’ll be able to play again.”

Narcissa beams at him with pride shining through her eyes, Harry just looks at him like he hangs the moon and stars. “You’re  _ amazing.” _

“I am aware.”

“My husband’s ego aside, how are the rest of you? Hermione, I understand you’ve got a study plan in place for OWLs?”

“Yes ma’am! Draco and I have a project we’re working on, so I intend to start forcing it as soon as that’s over.”

Ron frowns, but he says nothing under Belle’s threatening gaze.

“Good. I have no doubt you and Draco will be fighting over the top spot. Ronald, have you heard from your father at all?”

Ron startles. “Ah-no ma’am. Mum’s usually sends up letters to respond to and shares ours with dad.”

“I suggest you write to him,” Narcissa says cryptically. Draco’s definitely questioning her about it later. “Pansy, dear, I know your friend Jasmine is getting married in December, how goes her bridesmaid dresses?”

“They’re coming along, I’m still shocked that I get to be a part of it. Harry’s actually been helping me a bit, I make him cut fabric when I find him.”

“Wonderful. Blaise, darling, I’ve heard you’re adjusting well to the Quidditch team?”

“Yes ma’am. Draco’s been a little frustrated, so our training has been extra hard, but it all shows up on the pitch.”

“And how is Theo?” Narcissa asks, exchanging a knowing smile with the adults. 

Blaise pauses, which is like a stutter to him. “Theo is...fine…”

“Just fine?” Belle purrs. Blaise glares at her.

“What are you hinting at, mum?”

“That you should stop beating around the bush.” Pansy mumbles.

Blaise smacks her on the arm. “You’re one to talk!”

“Pansy, love, you didn’t tell me you have someone special!”

Pansy and Hermione both blush at the same time. He would be laughing if Harry wasn’t frowning at the look on Ron’s face.

“Do you have a plan for that, little dragon?” Narcissa whispers, just low enough for him and Harry to hear.

“Sort of. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

The humor in his mother’s eyes dies out like someone splashed water on it. “What do you mean?”

Draco tells them. He somehow interrupts Belle and Katie teasing their children. He doesn’t tell them everything, just the Slytherin issue that takes precedent over everything but Harry. 

“And you haven’t gone to Severus because?” Narcissa asks when he’s finished.

“Because he’s too busy. This is something I can handle as a Perfect, and it’s almost done. I’m more or less waiting for a catalyst. You know how Slytherins can be.”

“Too prideful for their own good.” Lucius grumbles. “You’ll have to be careful, if they’re targeting Slytherins they might come after you.”

“I’d like to see them try.” Harry says. “They know better than to come after my friends. They’re just targeting the younger Slytherins because they’re  _ cowards.” _

“It wouldn’t be as bad if they knew some defense spells.” Hermione adds with a pointed look to Harry.

Harry glares at her. “I still haven’t decided.”

“You’re wasting time, you mean.”

“I am not!”

“Wasting time with what?” Sirius asks.

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but Hermione beats him to it. “Our defense classes have been awful nearly every year! The only exception is you, Remus, and we asked Harry at the beginning of the year to help teach students, and he said he’d think on it but  _ come on!  _ We’re about to be going into a  _ war  _ and there are students that can’t even protect themselves from  _ school yard hexes!  _ Harry has more experience than any of us when it comes to fighting Riddle and he should be  _ using this experience  _ to teach kids how to protect themselves!”

“You said you won’t force me into it!”

“And she’s not.” Narcissa says. She turns her cold eyes on Harry. “Can you give me a reason why you shouldn’t do it?”

Harry looks between every adult, like he’s being cowed. “I-I don’t want to do it alone. I’m no good at teaching.”

“Have you ever tried it?” Remus asks.

“Well...no, but-”

“Do you want to know what I think?” Sirius asks softly.

And Harry, the idiot who respects his godfather more than anyone in the world, just nods.

“I think you should try it. If you don’t like it, fine. If you do, that’s fine too. Either way, I know you kid. You’re gonna feel guilty if you don’t do it and you see a kid get hurt during the war. You’ve been through too much to add that type of guilt onto your conscience. We’ll talk to Albus about getting a proper Defense teacher, but until then, give it a go. Just one.”

“But won’t people be upset if I stop?”

“You’re not doing this by yourself,” Draco sighs. “We’re all going to be helping you, you idiot. We won’t let you go in blind  _ or  _ out numbered.”

Harry looks between them all, but even Katie and Belle seem to agree with Sirius. Lucius certainly thinks it’s a good idea.

“We can have a house elf exchange lesson plans if you're nervous, and adding teachers to the plot will help strengthen unity. Draco, Pansy, Blaise, one of you should be the main teacher and the other two should be more assistants, same with you three, Harry, Hermione, and Ronald. See if you can’t get a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs involved. I believe Luna is an excellent fighter, and that Cedric boy is friendly with you, yes? I can bully Albus into accepting it as a club so you can extend an invitation to all houses.”

“To all houses?” Ron asks.

“Yes.” Katie nods. “Animosity between houses can ruin people’s lives. If people see you lot interacting, they have to question everything. If rivalry is even worth it, if there aren’t more important things than school houses.”

“You're essentially making allies.” Belle tells them. 

“You’re offering them a choice.” Sirius adds.

“A choice?”

“Yes.” Remus says. “That’s something we didn’t have that you can provide them. A simple choice.”

“And that choice is?” Draco asks, completely fed up with the crypticness. 

“Options.” Narcissa says simply. “You’re offering them the option to choose you instead of Dumbledore or Riddle. Albus isn’t the leader of the Light Movement,  _ you  _ are, Harry. People see you and they want to follow you, to protect you, to be a part of your crowd. Albus is a great strategist, but he’s not a leader, not like you and Riddle are and Riddle….well, it goes without saying that he’s not a fan of giving people choices.”

“By choosing you they can choose the light without Albus’s interference, they can choose Riddle, or they can choose neither. You aren’t going to force them, are you?”

Harry gives Lucius a look. “I’m not going to force  _ anyone  _ to do  _ anything.  _ And that’s exactly why they aren’t going to choose  _ me.” _

“We did.” Belle tells him. “All six of us did. Siri and Remmy chose you when you were born, I do believe Sissy and Lucius chose you when they realized how important you are to their son, and once we met you, Katie and I couldn’t choose anyone else.”

“You’re too charismatic for your own good, Poppet.”

“Did you all really choose me?” Harry asks. He aims it at everyone. The adults, his friends, even Draco.

Draco takes his hand underneath the table and squeezes it. “We did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry this was a day late, I GOT CAT!!!!! I am, probably overly, excited and I named her KiKi and I adore her with everything in my even though she's being difficult with her litter box and shat on my bed.  
> Anyways, I'm still working on the second story, I'm through with part one for now and it's over sixty pages long so yes it's gonna be a multi chapter thing and I'm still very excited to share it with you all omg. As always, this story is my main whip so I'm putting more focus on this one before the others.
> 
> Harry: I'm fine  
> Harry, after a therapy session: I would like to retract my earlier statement.
> 
> Ron: Are you getting him or am I getting him?  
> Hermione, watching Draco near Harry on the map: neither.
> 
> Pansy: I'm gonna ruin Umbitch's legacy so she has nothing left  
> Blaise: I'm gonna blacklist her from every clothing shop but the ones that sell only black clothing  
> Theo: I'm gonna play up my trauma card to make sure she's put through hell in Azkaban  
> Millie: I'm getting together with the Greengrasses to make sure all of her business deals fail  
> Draco: I'm gonna clean up the fucking mess.
> 
> Harry, with swim trunks: Bath? Swim?   
> Draco, a horny teenager: something like that
> 
> Draco, a horny teenager: I'm too posh to snog my boyfriend in the middle of a crowd  
> Also Draco, a horny teenager, upon seeing Harry: I am going to snog the shit out of him
> 
> Narcissa, leading the table to get updates on information:  
> Lucius, being a cool dad for once: anyways, this is what happens when you mess with my kid and his friends
> 
> Harry: why would anyone choose me?  
> Draco, who fought against liking Harry for three years and is now dating him: you think we have a choice?


	18. Regular School Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Disappoint me? You could never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first chapter that doesn't require a TW, be proud and enjoy REGULAR drama for once! :)

“I still think this is a bad idea.” 

“Well it’s too late to back out now.”

Harry sighs, but he does follow Hermione to the classroom. Not their room, as they prefer to keep that secret, but the classroom Lucius got them after bullying Dumbledore for a week.

And a week is all it took.

The Slytherins, because they’re all charming and good at getting people to do what they want, took it upon themselves to talk to a few reputable Ravens and a couple of Huffles. Draco called in the favor Cedric owes him to get him on board, and since Cedric is going, he somehow convinced Willie to join under the guise of preparing for their NEWTs. Luna was on board to help from day one, though she was less inclined to teach without Cho and Astoria by her side.

Now he’s here, following Hermione and Ron to his certain doom.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Ron says, throwing an easy arm around his shoulder. “Draco will be there.”

“Are you suggesting I make out with my boyfriend instead of teaching? Because that-”

“You  _ prat.  _ Save that shit for when I’m not there.”

“I mean, you’re the one who suggested it-”

“Shut up, both of you.” Hermione sighs. She’s got her hand on a door and it makes Harry want to run.

“Did we  _ have  _ to do this on Halloween?” Harry asks in a last ditch effort. “Our Halloweens are typically cursed you know.”

“They  _ are not!  _ And you’re not getting out of this, Harry Potter, you’ve already agreed and if you back out now I’ll help Pans hide your wand for a week.”

She throws the door open and drags them inside, Harry  _ swears  _ he hears Ron mumbling about how Hermione would help ‘Pans’ with  _ anything. _

But that train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he sees how many people there are.

There’s no way he can do this.

His friends are going to make him anyways.

Hermione pushes through the crowd until he’s standing at the front with the other house representatives; Draco for Slytherin, Cedric for Hufflepuff, and Astoria for Ravenclaw.

“Listen up!” She shouts, drawing the hundred pairs of eyes towards them- towards  _ him.  _ At least her hands are shaking, for a moment there Harry really thought she’d lost her mind. 

Apparently her moment of science is just her gathering her nerves.

“Thank you for coming today.”

“Defense Army!” one of the twins shouts.

Hermione grins. “Defense  _ club.  _ This isn’t a training zone, this is an opportunity for you to fill in the gaps our education system has left. Every one of you that’s come today is getting the chance to do just that, under some supervision of course.”

“So it  _ is  _ training.” Lavender asks, just to be smug.

To her credit, Hermione doesn’t even glare at her this time. “That’s not important. We all know there’s a war brewing, and we all know how important defense is going to be in that. But more than a war, what we’re going to teach you is going to help you past that. What I’m saying is that we’re all living past this dumb war and we’re all going to be using the spells taught here for  _ several  _ years to come. Got it?”

There’s a little ripple of nods from the room and Harry has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling. She’s just  _ so  _ good with people. They say that  _ he’s  _ the leader, but he’d follow Hermoine wherever she told him to go if he’s honest.

“Now, we’ve been granted permission by both Dumbledore and the House Heads.”

Harry nearly laughs. Lucius bullied Dumbledore into it, McGonagall gave them a permission slip and shooed them out before she could start laughing, Sprout sighed the entire time, Flitwick could barely contain his eye roll and Snape nearly killed them all with his glare when they asked. But sure, ‘granted permission’ is one way to put it.

“And in turn we have four teachers with some help, and I’m sure you know them but introductions never hurt.”

Harry takes it back. If following Hermione’s lead means introductions he’s going to start hiding from her.

Luckily, Cedric takes the first step. “I know I’m Head Boy, but here I’m just Cedric. Willie, Marlene, and I are here to help you all if you need it.”

“I’ve got Luna and Cho as my help,” Astoria steps forward to say, “We’re all pretty good with practical defense spells, though we haven’t got much training elsewhere so we’re looking forward to learning too.”

Draco sighs, probably feeling just annoyed about introductions as he is, “Pansy, Blasie, and I are all good at dueling. If any of you pull any sneaking shit we’ll have your heads.”

Well, that just made things worse than they already were. Harry steps forward with a big sigh, “Draco’s right. So is Hermione. This club is meant to be a place to learn, not to injure. If anyone in the club uses what we teach them to harm another student they’ll be kicked out immediately. Hermione’s our...um...owner? I guess? She and Pansy are keeping tabs on everyone and everything, so don’t cross them. If you need help with your schedules, Ron is a great strategizer. I’m just here to teach, I guess.”

“You’re the  _ leader.”  _ Hermione corrects.

Harry just shrugs.

He separates the student by age groups, gets them started with different instructors and then makes his way to the front. “Alright, we’re all at different levels so we’re gonna start with the basics, I guess.”

He sees Draco roll his eyes, but Hermione looks proud of him and Ron is beaming in support so, all things considered, it could be worse.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  


Draco’s been waiting for something bad to happen, but it’s the night of Halloween and nothing too drastic has happened. Yet.

He and Blaise lean against his headboard, idly doing homework while a book plays overhead. Draco has to periodically keep LuLu from eating their Halloween candy because some asshole used the annual Slytherin Halloween Pranks to make all of the sweets explode, and it’s all relatively normal until Pansy comes barging in.

The second they see tears in her eyes they’re standing.

“Darling?! What happened?” Blaise asks, Draco bringing candy to throw at her just in case.

“I- I  _ knew  _ I shouldn’t have done it and I  _ can’t believe  _ I got ahead of myself and now she’s-”

“Love,” Draco says, stepping up to occupy Pansy’s free side. “Come sit, tell us what happened.”

They move her over to Draco’s bed, sit her down, and don’t comment when LuLu crawls into her lap.

“It’s  _ Hermione.” _

Oh shit.

“Winky!” Draco calls while Blaise summons the blankets and tissues. 

They’ve never directly addressed the thing Pansy has going with their friend. Partly because they know Pansy will tell them when she’s ready, but mostly because Blaise is definitely apart of Draco and Harry’s bet and it’d be rude to get insider information without sharing immediately, which doesn’t seem fair if Pansy is telling  _ them  _ and trusting that they won’t tell anyone.

Winky pops into the room, takes one look at Pansy, and then pops out without Draco saying a word. It takes all of five seconds for Blaise to get her comfortable and Winky to pop back in with several of Pansy’s favorite sweets.

“Should Winky be getting Miss Pansy’s paints?” 

Draco looks at Pansy, who’s resumed her crying, this time on Blaise’s shoulder. “Maybe later.”

“Good luck, sir.” Is all Winky says before shooting Pansy a worried look and popping out of the room.

“Darling,” Blaise is saying, “We can’t understand you! Your face is gonna get all red and blotchy.”

“I don’t care!”

The two boys share a look.  _ Pansy not caring about her appearance?  _ What the hell happened?

It takes five minutes to calm her down enough to talk, and even then she sniffles into her strawberry ice cream.

“She was just  _ so attractive  _ when she was talking today, and I just-I wanted to kiss her  _ so bad  _ and when we were cleaning up after the feast I couldn’t stop thinking about it and if she’d let me or if she even  _ likes  _ me and I just-I  _ went for it!” _

“You went for it?”

Pansy forgoes her ice cream to burry her head in her hands. “I kissed her while she was ranting about Runes.”

“You didn’t!” Blaise gasps.

Draco tries not to let a victory screech out. Harry owes him ten gallons now. And then he remembers that Pansy came in crying. “What happened? What did she say?”

“She-!” Pansy chokes on a sob. “She said it felt good but it didn’t feel  _ right and I don’t know what that fucking means!” _

She throws herself into Draco’s arms, getting snot all over his chest. 

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I snogged Theo?”

_ “You what?!”  _ Pansy and Draco scream at the same time.

Now Pansy owes him too, she thought Blasie would end up with Neville, Harry technically is out of this one completely as he’s firmly rooting for Theo and Neville to get together.

“Technically  _ he  _ snogged  _ me.” _

“I-you- _ what?!” _

“You’re not the only one capable of getting a boyfriend, Draco.”

“I can’t believe I know two bisexuals dating men and  _ I  _ can’t get a girlfriend.”

Blaise pats her back, “That’s the curse of female bis, love, they always end up with tossers instead of princesses. If you ask nicely, I’m sure Harry and I can give you some tips.”

Pansy throws a spoon full of ice cream at him.

  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  


By ten it’s been determined that Pansy will, in fact, be sleeping with them tonight because she can’t deal with explaining everything to Millie and Daphne. Technically speaking, girls aren’t exactly  _ allowed  _ in the boy's room, but considering that he and Blaise are both currently uninterested in females, it’s not like anyone is going to say anything.

Doesn’t change the fact that it’s against the rules.

Which is why Pansy shrieks when Hestia comes sprinting in.

“What are you-”

“Pansy?!” Hestia pauses, then shakes her head and disregards the blatant rule breaking going on, “I don’t care. I need Draco.”

Draco pops his head up from where it was resting on Blaise’s shoulder. “Yes?”

Hestia blinks. “Are-aren’t you dating Harry Potter?”

“Yes?”

“Then why-”

“Hestia, Blaise is essentially my brother, not to mention a good pillow.”

“Right….” She blinks again. “I don’t have time for this! I need you to come with me.  _ Now.” _

Draco immediately sits up and hands LuLu to Blasie. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Flora. She-the Ravens-”

Draco’s putting on shoes before she can say another word.

He should’ve seen this coming, something  _ always  _ happens on Halloween. If it’s not a troll then it’s Geia, if it’s not Geia then it’s fucking Sirius breaking into the god damn school and if it isn’t that then it’s the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament champions. If none of those apply, it’s apparently  _ tradition.  _

As he runs through the hallways behind Hestia, he comes to the conclusion that he should  _ always  _ be on guard on Halloween. Just in case.

They find her on the second floor, slumped over, with Neville of all people helping her keep conscious.

“Get away from her!” Hestia yells, drawing her wand that Draco snatches out of her hand. 

“He’s trying to help!” Draco reminds her, rushing forward and taking over Neville’s spot.

“Hey there Cap.”

Draco runs a diagnostics, this is  _ not  _ going to be pretty. “You aren’t looking too good, Carrow.”

Flora shrugs, “Bloody bastards got ‘e while I wasn’t lookin’.” 

He’s going to  _ kill  _ them.

Right after he heals Flora. 

“We need to get you to Poppy-”

“No!” 

Draco looks between the twins, wondering why the hell they  _ both  _ dislike Poppy. 

“Why not?”

“She hates hospitals.” Hestia says, wringing her hands and looking at her sister like she’s losing something precious. “She can’t stand them, she won’t even go for broken bones.”

“Right…”

He can’t just heal her in the middle of the fucking hallway. 

“Neville, I need you to help me levitate her to the dungeons. Hestia, keep her calm.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna keep her regulated. Let’s  _ go, people!  _ She’s losing blood!”

It takes twice as long to get back down, especially because Draco keeps having to stop and throw spells at Flora to keep her blood from going too quickly. 

Whoever got her got her good, Draco can only see surface level wounds, but he doesn’t doubt that some fucker got her deep.

As soon as they reach the dungeons he takes Flora in his arms and kicks Neville out, sprinting the rest of the way with Hestia in front of him to open up the common room doors.

People inside instantly panic when they’re spotted, and their panic draws people out of their rooms which  _ really  _ isn’t what he needs.

“Clear the table!” Draco demands.

The two first years playing chess swipe the entire table clean just in time for him to deposit Flora. 

Pansy comes sweeping in, her and Blaise working through the gathering crowd to be at his side.

“Blaise, water,  _ now.  _ Pans, I need to know who did this. Winky!”

There’s a pop but Draco doesn’t bother looking up and Winky just gasps, which is fair. “Blood replenisher, calming draught, pain tonic, Severus.”

“Yes sir!”

She pops out as Blasie hands him a bowl of water that he uses to clean off her more serious surface wounds, then he casts a deep diagnosis and growls.

Someone’s broken her fucking chest plate and Draco is going to find out  _ who  _ and  _ murder them. _

“Hestia! Bring your sister clothes and a blanket.”

He throws up a privacy charm just so no one will see and then pushes on her chest with his magic, using the glowing red diagnostics to guide him as he forces marrow to mend the small crack on the right, just below her collarbone. She’s lucky it didn’t collapse on her, or worse, injure her rib cage. Lungs are  _ nasty  _ to heal. After that he slaps her awake, throwing a blood replenisher and calming draught down her throat. He’s just given her the pain tonic and begun cleaning her cuts and gashes when Severus comes in.

“What in Merlin’s great name- _ Ms. Carrow?” _

“Remember those Ravens I told you about?” Draco snaps, not looking up from Flora’s bleeding leg. “They did this to her.”

“Who?”

“I’m looking now.” Pansy says. She’s deep in her meditation, searching through thousands of connections Flora probably doesn't realize she has. Blaise keeps one hand on her shoulder, making sure she’s steady physically even though she gasps and flinches a few times. “It’s not-it’s too dark and I- _ oh!” _

Blaise shakes her when she starts screaming, Draco  _ really  _ doesn’t have time for this. He’d be more worried if Pansy was actually hurt, but he doesn't feel any pain from their blood contract so he knows whatever she's seeing is what happened to Flora.

It takes several long, anxious, and annoyingly watched minutes for him to finish, and then he turns a full fledged  _ glare  _ at his godfather.

At least Severus looks as furious as he does. “I’m going to wake Minerva, we’ll have a house meeting before midnight. Take care of them.”

_ “Someone  _ has to.” Draco snarls back, and then winces because he’s upset at whoever did this, not his god father who hasn’t done anything wrong. 

Yet.

Severus throws him a look that tells him they’ll definitely be talking about this later, and then turns on his heel to march though the sea of Slytherins looking at him.

“Listen up! This right here is the last fucking straw. You’ll travel in groups of three or more from this moment on, and every last one of you will be directly connected to me. If this happens again, it won’t be Slytherin blood that’s split.  _ Do I make myself clear?” _

They all nod, and Draco’s not sure if it’s out of fear or respect.

Honestly? He doesn’t care as long as they listen.

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  
  


“So I heard you went a little crazy on the Slytherins on Halloween…”

“Does everyone know about that?” Draco demands. “You’re not even talking to our number one gossiper!  _ How  _ do you know that?!”

Hermione glares at him from across the library table. “I have my ways.”

That’s not comforting in the slightest.

Since The Kiss, as he and Blasie have been calling it, Hermione and Pansy have barely spoken two words to each other. Millie and Theo, out of solidarity, aren’t talking to her either, and Draco and Blaise would join them but they know better.

Pansy doesn't want anyone to  _ dislike  _ Hermione just because she was dumb enough to kiss her. If anything, what she really wants is for this whole thing to blow over so they can go back to trading Transfiguration notes.

The only ones who are actually upset over the whole thing are Millie, Theo, and Ron. 

And that’s been making Gang Meetings  _ very  _ awkward.

It doesn't help that Neville gets slightly more quiet whenever Theo and Blaise are around. And  _ Merlin,  _ he really, really,  _ really  _ hopes he isn’t as big of an idiot for Harry as Blaise is for Theo.

He probably is, but he’s also one hundred percent sure that he and Harry make a cuter couple anyways.

“Stop daydreaming about Harry and tell me what happened! We can’t get a word out of any of you- and Neville only knows so much!”

“Hermione…” Draco begins, choosing his words  _ very  _ carefully because an angry Hermione is a scary Hermione. “I-”

“If you tell me to mind my own business while  _ children  _ are getting hurt I am going to hex you to the point that Pomphrey can’t heal you.”

“I wasn’t going to say that!” Draco corrects as quickly as he can. “I was just gonna ask that we, oh I don’t know,  _ not  _ have this  _ very private  _ conversation in a  _ very public  _ setting?”

Hermione glances to the tables around them, huffing and puffing because it’s mostly Ravens and a few Huffles, the one house that actually knows how to mind their own business.

But, given the nature of the situation, she does gather up her books and drag them to the Gang’s Room where she shoves him into a chair and crosses her arms. “Talk.”

“You interrupted my essay for McGonagall!”

“I’ll proofread it when you’re done talking.”

“Hermione Granger,” Draco waves a hand dramatically in front of his face. “Are you offering me a trade? How very  _ Slytherin  _ of you-”

“Draco, you have two seconds to talk before I show you  _ why  _ the hat put me in Gryffindor.”

That is not something Draco’s particularly interested in finding out. At least not through the hard way. So he tells her the story, what actually happened without any puffed up bits like what Theo’s been spouting off, glosses over the fact that Pansy still isn’t able to find the culprits, and that Blaise and Theo are apparently dating.

“And they all took the coins?” She asks when he’s done.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

Draco shifts in his chair. “I mean I don’t know. I had Winky leave them on everyone’s dresser with a note on how they work, but that doesn’t mean they actually  _ took  _ them. We won’t know who has one until they use it.”

“But why? The whole point of this is to keep them safe!”

“Yes, but it's still their choice to make. You heard what mum and Sirius said, the whole reason we’re better than Dumbledore and Riddle is because we’re giving people a  _ choice.  _ I refuse to take that away from kids that rarely get a choice in anything.”

Hermione gives him a long, complicated look that reminds him way too much of McGonagall but at least he knows what she’s thinking. She’s probably torn in between ranting about kids not being safe, getting angry over their lack of control in their own bloody lives, and preening over the fact that their little group offers something Dumbledore can’t.

And Draco understands why Dumbledore can’t. 

It’s not like his first few years of school, he’s not blinded by a title and a position granted to him anymore. Not bound to do anything Dumbledore wants him to, not ignoring all of a man’s faults just because of his accomplishments. 

But he truly does understand this.

Dumbledore’s about to fight his third war. He’s been using people as chess pieces for  _ years  _ now, because he fully understands the importance of winning. He understands what happens if they lose.

He’s just  _ really bad  _ with communicating and not all that great at making people happy.

“What did Snape say?”

Draco frowns. 

Snape said a lot, actually. He pulled Pansy and Draco, along with the upper year perfects into his office and properly chewed them, and himself, out for letting this happen. Of course, Draco had to run the coin idea by him before distributing them, and he was expecting some sort of resistance from someone in the room, but the Perfects nearly rejoiced and Severus was almost happy about it.

“He approves of the coins. He’s got most of the younger years on watch, and since Pansy and I are on protection duty, the sixth and seventh year Perfects are taking some of the weaker kids aside and teaching them basic defense shit. All of the House Heads have been told to keep an eye out and they’re apparently moving their monthly meetings to weekly until the situation is resolved.”

“And when will that be?”

“I have no idea. What I  _ do  _ know is that Poppy is going to kill me if I’m late, and she always makes me stay late when I’m late, and I have Quidditch Practice tonight-”

“Alright, alright.” Hermione sighs. “Get out of here.”

Draco stands, giving her a quick pat on the shoulder.

“Hey….” 

Draco pauses with his hand on the door, looking back at her. For some reason she seems nervous, and a nervous Hermione naturally makes him very alarmed.

“Is….does-I mean...does Pas-" She clears her throat, shaking her head ever so slightly, "Can you look over my Transfiguration notes later?”

A small smile splits across his face. “Of course.”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


_ “Why are you hiding?” _

Harry groans, looking down at Morgana and trying to communicate why she should be quiet.

Dinner has become an awful affair. And it’s all because of  _ girls. _

Well, most of it.

Luna’s taken to sitting with them, particularly so she can sit by Ginny and piss Seamus off with vague predictions they all know aren’t true. Neville usually joins in and at least attempts to play peacekeeper, but ever since Theo and Blasie got together he’s been weirdly quiet, which is worse than the dramatic sighing Hermione’s been doing since Pansy kissed her.

The worst part about it all is the fact that since that fateful day, Lavender Brown has been eating with them.

Well, not them.  _ Ron.  _ Sitting next to him, laughing at the funny bits, being a disgusting downright delight and Harry is  _ so  _ sick of it.

If she could do him a favor and be awful, or at the very least less enjoyable, that’d be great.

_ “These are your friends? Why do you hide?” _

Harry glares down at his wrist, pointedly keeping his book in front of his face.

He’s been  _ reading at meal times.  _ If that’s not a cry for help he doesn't know what is.

_ “It’s awkward.” _

_ “Then go where it’s not awkward? I can smell your lover from here. He is not awkward with you.” _

Harry spares a glance at the table next to him and sure enough, Draco’s laughing at something Millie is saying, pink littering his cheeks and you know, having dinner with his boyfriend sure  _ seems  _ more appealing than suffering in silence.

But can he just...go? Can he do that? Is he even  _ allowed  _ to sit at the Slytherin table?

Harry takes all of one second to contemplate that before remembering that he’s never exactly been a rule follower, more like a rule breaker. Plus, there’s only one way to find out, and he’ll never know if he doesn't try.

It sucks that none of the Gryffindors look up when he stands. The Slytherins on the other hand….

“Harry?” Draco asks, tilting his head to the side in the cutest motion Harry’s ever seen. “What are you doing, love?”

“They’re being annoying, scoot over.”

Draco laughs, but he scoots to the left while Pansy scoots to the right so he can sit in between them. “Who is it this time?”

“The whole lot of them-”

“Why do you have a book?” Millie asks.

“Because-”

“Because,” Draco cuts him off, “It’s apparently become  _ that  _ bad.”

Harry glares at him for all of two seconds before Draco leans over to kiss his cheek.

“Hey!” Theo snips, “If Blaise and I can’t make out at the table then you can’t either!”

“We aren’t  _ making out!” _

“When they do it, it’s cute and innocent.” Pansy says, pointing her fork at Blaise and Theo, “When you do it, it’s like looking at a porno.”

A few of the younger years flush, Draco shoots her a look, but Harry’s too busy laughing to catch what the look is supposed to mean.

“Are you gonna tell me who it was this time?”

Harry holds up his wrist so Morgana can say hello. “She was complaining about it being awkward.”

_ “I was saving you from your doom, brat.” _

_ “You’re literally like, under a year old.” _

_ “And I’m still wiser than you.’’ _

Millie bursts into laughter. “I don’t Speak, but I’m one hundred percent sure she just made fun of you.”

“She’s always making fun of me.”

“That just means she’s a good snake.”

Harry flicks some peas at Blaise, not at all surprised when he casually brushes them to the side. “So, is Nev still mad about the screaming roses? Or was it Hermione figuring out her sexuality-oh wait! It was Lavender, wasn’t it? Her and Ron?”

“Why do you enjoy bringing suffering into my existence?” Pansy asks.

Harry pats her back sympathetically, “Sorry, Pans, but he got it all in one nut.”

“I don’t understand why you haven’t tried  _ talking  _ to her.” Millie points out.

Pansy flushes, looks deeply into her pudding, and then glares before storming out of the Great Hall.

“Good job.” Blaise glares. Millie just shrugs.

“Talking about it makes it easier to handle, all I’m saying is that the sooner they talk the sooner we can stop pretending to be mad at Hermione and I kinda need that to happen sooner rather than later. We’ve got a test in History this Friday and you  _ all  _ know that’s my napping class.”

Draco lets out a long suffering sigh, “I’ll go get her.”

He rises, and since Harry literally came over to sit with his boyfriend, he ends up following Draco out of the Great Hall.

“Workshop or the Art Room?” He asks.

Draco laces their fingers together, pulling them up the first flight of stairs. “Art Room. She makes dresses when she’s angry or excited, but paints when she’s sad or frustrated.”

“We’ve got to work this out before the Defense Club meets on Monday.”

“I’ve been talking to her, she’s slowly coming around. How’s Hermione? She only wants to talk about school when she sees me.”

Harry shrugs, “She’s been diving into a lot of new projects. I don’t think the Lavender Issue is helping much….honestly I’m not above throwing this at our parents and making them deal with her.”

“Hm….” Draco looks out into the distance, like he’s actually  _ considering  _ forcing Hermione to write  _ Narcissa Malfoy  _ about her lovelife crisis. “Maybe not mum and dad, and I can’t imagine Sirius and Remus  _ not  _ making fun of her for it….we could always write to Belle.”

Harry pulls on his hand so Draco can see his look of disbelief. “You want to tell Belle Zabini,  _ the  _ Black Widow on her twenty third fiancé,  _ notorious  _ for ruined relationships, not to mention  _ Blaise’s mum  _ about Hermione’s sexuality crisis?!”

“Yes? I’ll have you know that she’s great to talk relationships out with. Sure, there’s a bit of a cost and benefit analysis, but she doesn’t want  _ everyone  _ to be like her. Blaise still hasn’t told her about him and Theo because he just  _ knows  _ she’s gonna have a talk with him.”

A shiver runs down Harry’s spine. “Blaise isn’t going to kill Theo, is he?”

“Harry!” Draco laughs, all light and fluffy and filling up Harry’s smile. “What did I  _ just  _ say? For Merlin’s sake, didn’t I tell you about  _ my  _ conversation with Belle?”

“You had a conversation with her? About what?”

“About  _ you,  _ you idiot.”

“ME?! I knew it! This has all been a long con-”

“Will you shut up?” Draco laughs. “I’m  _ trying  _ to tell you something.”

Harry just smiles up at him, taking in pink cheeks and beaming stormy eyes and he knows that Draco is talking.

Draco’s expecting him to pay attention, to know what he’s saying, to remember it all and laugh with him. But the issue is that Draco is flushing with laughter, his hand is warm in Harry’s hand and Harry is bundled up in one of his old hoodies and they’re just casually walking down the hallway to cheer up their friend and he can’t stop himself from thinking it.

When Draco uses his free right hand to talk, his eyes going all big and animated, lips quirking up in that sinful, signature Draco Malfoy way.

It honestly hits him like a Bludger to the chest.

One minutes he’s walking, listening to Draco rant, hoping to find Pansy as soon as possible so he can crawl into bed.

And the next minute he’s struck with the fact that he loves the boy next to him.

Not like how he loves Ron and Hermione, the twins and Ginny, maybe even Percy in the same weird sibling like love. Not the love he holds for Sirius and Remus, for Molly and Arthur, the not quite parentish love but close to it. Not in the way he’s come to care for Narcissa, Belle, Katie, and even Lucius.

Not even in the way he loves Hedwig and Morgana.

No, this type of love is like Draco himself. Unique in every way, beautiful, stunning, painful, sharp. Like the first breath of fresh air his lungs have never had before.

And maybe it’s too soon. They’ve barely been dating for a year, barely had the chance to know all the ins and outs of each other, for Merlin’s sake, Harry can’t even kiss him in public without his face heating up but it doesn’t change the warm feeling in his chest or the sudden berate of  _ I love you  _ going through his head as Draco rants.

“-anyways, that’s not the point, the  _ point  _ is that during the summer, when I confessed that we’re dating, she took me into the drawing room and made me swear that I’d be the perfect gentleman. Honest! Gave me a list of what to and not to do, I think she would’ve made me sign a contract if mum didn’t walk in! And-hey! Why are you smiling? It’s not  _ that  _ funny!”

_ I love you  _ Harry thinks.

“I mean, it kinda is. Sirius never told  _ me  _ to be a gentleman, though, so if I disappoint you, you can definitely blame it on him.” Harry says instead.

Draco gives him a confused look, eyebrows furring together, lips gently tugging down. “Disappoint me? You could never.”

  
  
  


\-----------

  
  


The brief period of strife in their friend group is put on hold to celebrate Blaise’s birthday, just like they did for Hermione a few weeks ago. Draco wakes him up, practically drags him to the Gang’s Room, and glares at any and everyone who even  _ thinks  _ about interrupting the hushed conversation Hermione and Pansy are having in the corner.

Thankfully, Blaise and Theo make for a wonderful distraction.

“We didn’t snog like that when we first started dating, did we?”

“No.” Draco sneers. “We were definitely more reserved.”

“No you weren’t.” Ginny says, but seeing that Luna is tucked under her arm, Draco personally doesn't think she has room to talk.

The beginning of November brings a few changes to the castle.

For starters, after a brief talk with the other Perfects of each house, Cho had personally chewed out every last Ravenclaw, leaving the birds sulking in their books more than usual. Cedric, thankfully, has the house with the least amount of problems, but now Draco’s having to watch more and more of his Slytherins buddy up with Huffles and while it’s not a  _ bad  _ thing, it’s not exactly pleasant due to some of the upper year’s attitudes. Ron and Hermione didn’t even have the chance to rant at their house before Lavender of all people strong armed some younger Gryffindors into becoming friends with his snakes.

For all their loud crassness, having a few Gryffindor bodyguards around his first years has done wonders for his sleep at night. 

Since he’s already friends, or at least friendly, with several other people in all four houses, the Slytherins don’t really protest the changes. They actually, in a weird way, start to follow his lead and branch out. He catches Emmy leading a bunch of Susan Bones’s first years, Connor secretly playing with one of the Creevy’s owls, even Caissus has taken it upon himself to weasel into one of the seventh year Raven NEWT study groups, dragging Flint and Adaline with him. 

It took all of one week for Pansy and Hemione to make up. They act like they did before The Kiss, or they try to at least. Draco’s not the only one to notice how strained and careful their conversations have become, how they keep a certain distance between them that looks rather painful.

He sends out a letter to Belle, hoping to Merlin she can fix that particular mess.

Regardless of his friend’s struggles, the extra work Poppy has him pulling, the emotional drain Ellios’s sessions put him through, his weekly tea with Severus, and his Perfect duties constantly biting him in the ass, Draco finds himself enjoying the colder weather for one reason and one reason only.

Cold weather means bundling up, and that means he’s getting more chances to shove Harry into more and more of his clothing.

It’s really not his fault that it keeps happening. If anything, the blame goes to Harry for constantly shivering and conveniently forgetting his scarves, jackets, and cloaks in random places. And it’s not like Draco can just  _ let  _ his boyfriend be cold. Besides, when Draco casually pulls out extra jackets, Harry gets the cutest little blush. And on the morning that Draco slips his Slytherin scarf around Harry’s neck, he gets to use the stupid thing to pull Harry close and kiss him right on the nose. Colin Creevy even provides him with a picture for all of his troubles.

The only professor to ever comment on it is Severus, but it goes over much more smoothly than Draco thinks it will. Really, just a look and a ‘nice scarf, Potter’ and that was it.

Not that anyone  _ should  _ complain. Harry looks  _ amazing  _ in Slytherin green.

The one downfall, the one prick in his side that he can’t ignore any longer, is Ronald fucking Weasley and Lavender fucking Brown.

Who are currently sitting at the table over from him and Hermione, looking like they couldn’t care less about anyone else in the entire world.

And that is  _ not  _ making Hermione happy.

“Really,” She whispers, glaring her scariest glare at the red headed idiot, “He  _ never  _ comes to the library! I have to  _ beg him! And she just says  _ ‘Wanna come with’  _ and suddenly he’s all gung ho about it?!” _

“Hermione, please, this is the second time you’ve spilled ink on my essay. You  _ know  _ how particular Flitwick is, and I  _ just  _ finished explaining the arithmancy behind the severing spell.”

“It’s not like that’s hard.” She sniffs, “I  _ know  _ Pomphrey taught that to you last year, you can probably recite the theory in your sleep.”

He can, but he’s certainly not going to tell her that when Midterms are a month away.

The Lavender Issue, as Harry calls it, wouldn’t be as big of a deal it was just affecting Hermione. The real problem is that when something affects Hermione, it somehow manages to bite them all in the ass. Not only is she currently freaking out over Midterms because of the ever-looming OWLs, but she’s still tense with Pansy, and at this point it really seems like Ron is just taunting a dragon.

The worst part of it all is that Ron doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong.

Draco and Harry walk into the Gang’s Room, fully intending to snog each other senseless before the others show up, and find Ron idly smoothing his thumb over a king chess piece.

Harry immediately lets go of his hand. “Mate? What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna brush up on flying triple loops with Angelia?”

Ron startles, king piece falling out of hand and onto the floor. He gives them both a small, sad smile and all of Draco’s annoyance with him shatters. 

“She sent me away when I nearly fell off my broom.”

“You nearly fell? What the hell, Ron? You’re too good for that-”

“I know, I know. I just...wasn’t in the right headspace. Godric, Ellios has been getting to me I guess.”

Draco flops into the chair across from him, winding an arm around Harry when he perches on the chair’s arm. “Do you want to talk about it? Poppy says it’s not good to not talk about it, and I’m rather inclined to believe her.”

“I think Pomphrey  _ and  _ Ellios have been getting to  _ you.”  _ Ron smirks. And then lets go a type of sigh that Draco’s never heard from him. The defeated, tired, almost drained sort of sigh. “But you are the healer in our little group…”

“A trained healer,” Harry supplies. “Which means you have to listen to whatever he says, you know.”

“No you don’t.”

“But-”

“He’s bloody  _ Ron!  _ You know he’s too strong willed for that!”

Ron laughs. “Thanks, mate, but your advice isn’t that bad.” Draco gives him a look. “It’s not bad all the time.” Harry snorts. “It’s not bad  _ most  _ of the time- stop laughing! It’s  _ not!  _ For Godric’s sake if it weren’t for his advice Pans and ‘Mione would’ve never made up!”

“That was Millie, actually.”

_ “No.  _ Millie just made Pans upset. If I recall correctly,  _ you  _ were to one to tell ‘Mione to get off her high horse  _ and  _ I  _ definitely  _ remember you telling Pansy to stop being a ‘sad, dramatic sod.’”

Draco shifts in his chair, refusing to acknowledge the pride swelling at the back of his mind. “Are you gonna tell us what’s wrong or not?”

“I-” Ron hunches his shoulders and it’s really a silly thing to do. He’s much too tall for such an action, it makes him look like a giant trying to sit in a goblin’s chair. “It’s Hermione, actually. I think she found out that I was never really mad at Pansy…”

Draco and Harry share a look. 

“What do you mean?” Harry asks slowly.

“Well, she hasn’t talked to me in a few days, and everything was fine until she caught me and Lav on the way back from the Art Rooms. Lav wanted to show me her latest piece, and Pans was up there so we got to chatting, and chatting turned into painting and, well, Pans accidently got some blue in my hair, and Lav was getting it out when ‘Mione walked by and I  _ thought  _ they made up! I really did, mate! I didn’t think she’d be able to know I was with Pans from the paint color alone! I probably should’ve...Pans said it was a color she mixed herself, and you know how close they are! ‘Mione was probably there when she mixed it and now she’s avoiding me! It’s like I walk in a room and she walks out! She won’t even rant to me about  _ Runes  _ anymore, mate, and you  _ know  _ how she likes to rant about Runes!”

“Ron…” Draco starts, slowly, carefully, because he can’t believe he’s really about to say this. “Hermione isn’t upset that you were with Pansy...she’s upset because you were with Lavender.”

“Why would she be upset about that? She knows Lav and I are friends, I thought she liked Lav?”

Harry pinches his arm to keep him from saying anything, and it’s really for the worst.

See, the thing is that Lavender is very hard to not like. As a matter of fact,  _ everyone  _ who's within their group is friends seems to like her.

She jokes with the twins, helps Ginny with her outfits before her dates with Luna. She’s apparently into baking and spends time talking with Millie about cakes and different soufflés. Her and Theo apparently have the same taste in silks and flowers, and since she’s rather good at Herbology she gets along with Blaise. Draco’s never heard her say a singular bad thing about Luna, she actually gives his cousin  _ meaningful compliments.  _ Neville admits that she sometimes cheers him up when he’s down about not being brave, apparently she stopped  _ several  _ upper years from being assholes when Seamus and Dean officially started dating. 

Draco gets so desperate for a reason to dislike her that he actually has to go to his other friends, just to make sure that she’s really  _ that  _ good.

Cedric and Cho agree that she’s downright charming, Willie doesn't even sneer at her name, Susan lights up when Draco mentions her, and Pansy….

Pansy absolutely adores her.

Apparently they’ve been not horrible to each other since they’ve been in the same painter’s class since third year. And after Pansy’s showcase of her sewing skills at the Yule Ball, Lavender warmed right up to her. Now, since they’re no longer playing the role of bad little snakes, the two have apparently become  _ friends.  _

When Draco asks for his best friend’s opinion on one Lavender Brown, he does  _ not  _ expect a long, gushing, nearly  _ flaunting  _ recollection of every good piece of art the girl has ever done, but that’s exactly what he gets.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were friends?” He demands when she’s finally done.

Pansy, the bitch, just shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, Lav is great, but she’s not  _ that  _ important. She’s too pure for me to spend long periods of time with. Doesn’t make her less of an artist though.”

And the horrible thing is that Pansy is  _ right.  _

The more time he and Harry spend around Ron, the more time he ends up spending with Lavender and he  _ tries.  _ He tries so bloody hard to dislike her, for Hermione’s sake if nothing else, but she’s too bloody  _ sweet!  _ Disliking her would be like disliking Luna, and seeing that Luna and Fleur have been tied for favorite cousin since he was  _ five  _ that’s damn near impossible.

So, like any mature fifteen year old would, Draco slaunters into his godfather’s office, ignoring Willie and plopping down in his special chair.

Severus and Willie both stare at him. Well, Severus stares, Willie more glares, actually.

“Draco….” Severus sighs after an uncomfortably long silence. “I understand that you and William know each other’s secrets, but I’m in the middle of discussing future career options.”

“I thought House Heads were supposed to do that?”

“And  _ I  _ thought people weren’t supposed to know when Slytherins were being nosey.”

Draco glares at Willie, who glares back. It’s not intimidating in the slightest.

Severus sighs again, but this time with more amusement. “His parent requested that I go over his options with him too, so I once again have to ask what, exactly, my nosey godson thinks he’s doing.”

“I’m hiding from Hermione.” Draco says, not backing down from his glaring competition with Willie.

“And why are you doing that in my office?”

“Because you won’t give me up.”

“Draco-”

“If you kick me out I’m telling Sprout about this.”

_ “Professor  _ Sprout.” Severus corrects. He considers Draco for a moment, and then sighs. “Go gather the ingredients for my next lesson while I finish up here.”

Because he’s secretly a giant pushover, or maybe just a pushover for Draco, Snape lets him stay until he has to go to dinner, and even the prospect of making fun of Blaise and Theo dims when he sees Ron give Hermione a hurt look.

It’s kind of infuriating, actually, and he’s ranting about it to Blaise and LuLu as they settle in for the night when Harry pops in out of  _ nowhere  _ and nearly scares him half to death.

“Bloody hell!” Blaise shouts. “You could’ve warned us first!”

“And miss scaring you? Not a chance.”

“I wasn’t scared!” Blaise protects. Draco ignores them both, saying hello to Morgana and curling around LuLu.

Harry takes a second to look around the room, his eyes get adorably wide when a creature swims past their windows, and then he tosses his invisibility cloak on the floor and settles on the edge of Draco’s bed.

“I know this is technically wrong of me to ask…”

Draco sits up, Blaise pauses his skincare routine. 

“But, we’ve got to do something about Ron.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry frowns. “Morally, I hate to do this, but I’m fresh out of ideas, and I can’t go to Hermione, obviously, and you can always say ‘no’ but if you do that then I have to go see Pansy and I don’t really trust Daphne  _ not  _ to hex me and-”

“Harry, love,  _ darling.”  _ Draco snatches his wrist and pulls him down so he’s laying with his head on Draco’s chest.

Blaise scowls at him. “Please tell us what the fuck you’re talking about so I can hex Draco into oblivion.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because  _ I’m  _ not allowed to do that with Theo-”

“I never said you weren’t  _ allowed,  _ I just told you not to do it here! I never said you couldn’t go to  _ his  _ room and get up to nefarious things.”

“Yes,” Blaise drawls, “Because wanting to cuddle with my boyfriend is nefarious.”

“You weren’t ‘just cuddling’ last Tuesday-”

“I didn’t instigate that one!”

_ “That one?!  _ How many times have you-”

_ “Guys.”  _ Harry chuckles, all fond and stupidly exasperated. “Back to the point, please? Ron? Ron being sad? Any of that ring a bell?”

“He’s been put out for the past two weeks, Harry,” Blaise sighs. “Why intervene now? I thought we were letting it run its course and waiting for him to talk to one of us about it.”

“About that…”

Draco cannot believe he’s agreeing to this. His pride as a captain is dangerously close to being ruined, but, unfortunately, he values his family more than his titles and Ron has somehow managed to get on his ‘important’ list.

Almost falling off a broom once? Not a big deal, it happens to everyone.

Nearly falling off a broom every practice when the next game is a few days away? A huge deal. 

With the way the Quidditch season has been going, there’s no way in hell Angelia isn’t freaking out. For some unknown reason (having Cedric as a Seeker and Willie as a Keeper) the Huffles have been crushing  _ everyone.  _ His snakes barely won their game against the Badgers, and even then it was a ten point difference between Huffle's scoring and Draco catching the Snitch. Sure, he could blame it on the fact that he had to replace Puecy with Tracy Davis, but Tracy’s been keeping up with practice like it’s merely a chore. She’s wicked on a broom, despite being reserved everywhere else. She was probably the reason they made a single goal in their game against Hufflepuff.

The Badgers even wiped the floor with the Ravenclaw team, though that’s not saying much because the Ravens have honestly sucked this year. The only thing they have going for them are their Beaters, and while Draco respects the fuck out of Cho, he still has eyes and knows that she’s been a little off kilter this season. 

On the plus side, Draco can totally justify this to anyone who asks him. He helps Harry cheer Ron up, the Gryffindors win, and then all they have to do is beat the Ravens and get a  _ fair  _ rematch with the Lions. It’s basically like handing himself this year’s Quidditch Cup. And it provides the nice bonus of making his friend happy.

Now he just has to get Harry out of his bed so he can start working.

And that is not an easy feat. 

Especially when Blaise sneers and leaves them, probably to go snog Theo, and Harry burrows deeper into his chest.

“This is not appropriate behavior for a Perfect,” Draco tries, even as he tugs Harry closer.

“At least we’re not doing whatever Blaise and Theo are doing?”

Harry says it though a yawn and that makes Draco yawn, and then LuLu’s yawning and honestly? He has until Saturday, that’s like four whole days away.

He can totally shrug off his responsibilities to snuggle with his boyfriend.

Well, his boyfriend, his Kneazle, and his boyfriend’s snake.

Draco faintly finds his current situation funny, but he’s much too tired to do anything but kiss the top of Harry’s head and admit defeat to the sleepiness forcing his eyes shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaise and Theo finally got together!!!! I'm super excited about next week's chapter and the week after that because I'm posting the first chapter of my other fic on the first monday of march!!!! Literally frothing at the mouth to post it, but patience or whatever. 
> 
> Draco: Halloween and no one is bleeding? Seems sus  
> Draco, three hours later: maybe I should stop jinxing good things
> 
> Pansy, after kissing Hermione: oh god  
> Hermione, confused and slightly frightened: how do you know about muggle religions?
> 
> Theo: fancy a snog in an alley somewhere?  
> Blaise: yes, actually.
> 
> Snape, to Flitwick after finding out about Flora: if you wanna start a street fight with me, bring it on, but you're gonna be surprised by how ugly it gets, you don't even know my real name-  
> Flitwick, scared but equally as angry with his ravens: your real name is Severus??
> 
> Harry: I just want to eat in peace-  
> Neville: Sorry, I'm brooding  
> Hermione: I'm being dramatic  
> Ron: I'm being oblivious  
> Luna: I am here to cause problems  
> Harry: for fuck's sake.
> 
> Harry, internally: i love you  
> Harry, externally: you're an idiot
> 
> Blaise, looking at Harry and Draco cuddling: this is the singular more hypocritical thing I have ever-
> 
> Draco, trying to hate Lavender: Fuck! She's nice!
> 
> Draco: I am a responsible Perfect and all my Slytherins either fear or respect me  
> Draco, with Harry cuddled next to him: being a perfect means absolutely nothing


	19. Hermione's Bad Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve haven’t been avoiding Hermione, not exactly, they’re just been...making sure their heads stay connected to their bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just teenage drama, a lot of kissing, honestly this is arguably the softest chapter i've ever written

Saturday Morning finds Draco smiling at Millie, who holds a single grey button in her hand, frowning ever so slightly.

“And this is supposed to make him feel better how?”

“It’s a  _ king,  _ like the chess piece? You  _ know  _ that’s his favorite.” He whispers, just for her to hear.

The one problem with his brilliant plan is that most of the Slytherins aren’t friendly enough with other houses to willingly support them when it comes to Quidditch. As a matter of fact, most of them are currently glaring at Draco for even  _ suggesting  _ they wear his coins, despite how well made they are, and that is something Draco has to fix.

“Think about it, Millie.” He says, loud enough for the entire common room to hear him, “Hufflepuff crushed us in the last game, and at the rate it’s going, we’ll have to face them to win the cup, and I, personally, don’t like working harder than I have to. We support Gryffindor, they win, then it’s just a matter of beating them in the final round. It’s not like we’ll be nice about it.”

“Didn’t we lose last time?” Emmy asks, eyeing the buttons like they might bite her.

“A technicality. Besides, if we all play nice, I  _ might  _ be willing to distract Harry enough to win.”

He’s met with a crowd of frowning, and blushing, faces. At least they all take a coin on the way out.

Millie drags him to the side, "You know they're going to win the cup no matter what, right? The best we can do is win the match."

"Doesn't matter. As long as we're both winning _something."_

Millie frowns at him, but she does take a coin. 

It doesn’t matter what they think, what matters is Ron’s reaction.

Harry sees it first. 

Draco, along with his Slytherins, marching into the Great Hall, grey buttons with a little crown on them, proud and perhaps a bit arrogant. 

Harry raises a single eyebrow, so Draco sits directly behind him, clears his throat, and presses the middle point of the crown.

_ “ _ _ Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring, That's why Slytherins all sing: Weasley is our King.” _

Ron instantly spews porridge out of his nose, laughing all while Hermione glares something fierce and Harry badly hides a snort. 

“M-mate,” Ron manages to say, leaning over his half-eaten bowl, eyes twinkling with hurt or humor, probably both. “What is this?”

Draco sniffs, all prim and proper, flicks his hair back, and turns to face his friends. “Surely you can prove a few buttons wrong, Ronald.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Well it’s certainly not a compliment.”

_ “Oh,”  _ Ron grins, finally not looking like a whipped puppy for the first time since The Kiss, “You’re  _ on.” _

The game is, unfortunately, overrun with rain. Draco, Pansy, and Blasie all huddle together under Theo’s umbrella charm and Millie’s waterproof blanket, cheering for the Gryffindor Team with most of Slytherin.

Most his ass.

They’re almost evenly divided, still wearing their buttons of course, but half of the green sea is in one of their two stands, hooting and hollering, singing with the rest of the school for the Lions to swallow the Badgers whole, and the other stand, still clad in green, is shooting the song with malice, as though they  _ want  _ to lose the chance for redemption.

Oh well, it’s not like he can change his whole house overnight.

In the end, it’s Ron who blocks the last Hufflepuff Chaser, knocks the Quaffle to the opposite side of the field, right as Harry’s fingers clasp around the Snitch.

And now, Draco was expecting to see them tomorrow, afterall, this is a  _ huge  _ game, and there’s surely going to be a celebration.

What he doesn't expect is for Harry to fly straight to the Slytherin stands, grab him by the back of the next, and kiss him in front of the entire stadium.

“Thank you.” He says, and Draco tries to focus on his words but the issue is that Harry looks amazing.

Hair all wind blown, even in a barely hanging on ponytail. Eyes bright and green, shining like emerald stones to lead him home. Smile so bright and wide that Draco can’t  _ not  _ grin back at him. And yes, he’s sweaty, and a bit gross, but he also smells like citrus and rain and broom polish and Draco doesn't want to look away.

Who gives a shit if they’re making a scene?

“Come to the party with me.” Harry says, hand still on Draco’s neck. “All of you.”

“Celebrating now for when we kick your asses later?” Blaise drawls, even though he’s smiling too.

Harry scoffs, but it doesn’t dim the glow on his face one bit, “Celebrate for when you don’t win later.”

That starts a bit of a scuffle, but an hour later Draco and his Slytherins are being bombarded with crimson, well, the crimson they can see over the mass of people.

It’s not just Gryffindors and a handful of Slytherins, some Ravens have joined too, all drinking, laughing, carrying on in a way that McGonagall’s  _ definitely  _ going to hear about but Draco doesn’t give a shit.

He might be in the ugliest common room of them all, but he has Harry tucked into his side, he’s laughing with Blaise and Hermione while Pansy bullies Theo about something. They can't find Neville, but they also can’t find Millie. Ginny and Luna have been banned from drinking, but Ginny’s still trying to con the Twins into giving her a bottle or two. And Ron-

“Holy shit.” Blasie breaths in, staring somewhere to the left.

Draco follows his eyes immediately, along with the rest of their group. This.  _ This  _ is why he wanted to dislike Lavender. Why he tried to hate her, why he and Harry have been trying to find something wrong with the girl.

The girl who’s currently on her tiptoes, snogging Ron like she’s trying to steal his lungs out of his throat.

Theo frowns, “Gross.”

“It’s  _ revolting.”  _ Hermione spits. She stands and starts towards her room, Pansy immediately following her.

Harry meets his gaze with a frown. “This is gonna be fun.”

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


It’s not fun. 

Not in the slightest.

Lavender becomes a permanent figure in their daily activities, always in some form of physical contact with Ron. More often than not, she does this by kissing him breathless, sitting in his lap, or Harry’s personal least favorite, getting closer whenever Hermione is near.

And if Hermione was handling The Kiss poorly, she’s handling Ron and  _ LavLav  _ like one would handle a cursed object.

Not well. She’s handling it not well at all.

And for Harry, who’s usually right in between the two of them, this is creating quite the issue.

“You can’t just live in here.”

Harry lifts his head from Draco’s bed, barely making out Theo and Blaise without his glasses. “Do  _ you  _ want to have the talk with Ron and ‘Mione?” There’s a beat of silence, so he says: “That’s what I thought.”

“Someone needs to have it.” Draco pipes up from his left, absently editing his homework. 

“Well, it’s not going to be any of us. Pans is the only hope we had, but she’s, um…”

“Avoiding her because ‘Mione hurt her feelings twice in the same month?” Harry offers. 

His voice is muffled by the Slytherin comforters, but he knows they heard him. They wouldn’t be making audible winces if they didn’t.

“I’d say Nev, but he’s still mad at me and Blaise for the flaming roses.”

Right, flaming roses is why he’s mad. Harry sighs heavily, flipping over so he can nuzzle his head onto Draco’s stomach. “Fred and George?”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Blasie asks.

“No. Ginny, maybe?”

“If we can pull her away from Luna long enough.”

“You’re all idiots.” Draco grumbles, but his hands are starting to card through Harry’s hair so he can’t be that mad. “I already oweled Belle. Hermione should be getting her owl soon, we just have to steer clear until then.”

Easier said than done, in Harry’s opinion.

They’ve haven’t been avoiding Hermione, not exactly, they’re just been...making sure their heads stay connected to their bodies.

She’s nearly always in the Library these days, and one simply does not bother Hermione when she’s angry in the library unless they fancy losing a few fingers. When she’s not at the Library, she’s writing furiously at mealtimes, or dead asleep in her room.

And they’re tried, all of them have, to at least  _ attempt  _ conversing with one another, but she’s not exactly prone to kind words, even at Defense meetings.

Like the Defense meeting Harry should be planning for right now.

Instead he finds himself staring at a weird door.

Weird, because he could’ve sworn that he was  _ just  _ in Draco’s bed, listening to Theo and Blaise complain, not standing in the middle of-

Fuck.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place, surrounded by Malfoy Manor gates.

This is his mind.

And there’s a weird, strangely creepy, door in the middle of his mind. A door he  _ knows  _ he didn’t put there.

It’s shiny, the door. Shiny and black, almost like obsidian, with a golden handle and a weird green glow to it. And his hand, wait, that’s  _ way  _ too pale to be his hand. 

_ Someone’s  _ hand is reaching towards the door. 

And for some reason, that strikes fear into Harry. 

He doesn’t know much about this door. Never seen it before, never come across it, never even  _ thought  _ about this door in particular, but he knows it should stay closed. 

This door should  _ never  _ be open. 

So why the hell is a weirdly pale hand reaching for it?

And why can’t he see the body that’s connected to said hand?

And why-

“Harry?”

A single word and the door is gone. The Black Manor and the Malfoy Gates around it disappear and Harry’s left blinking himself into the reality around him. 

The one where Draco, Blaise,  _ and  _ Theo are giving him funny looks. 

“Bad dream?” Draco asks. 

Harry can’t be bothered to respond, he merely rolls over and burrows his face into Draco’s face, tugging LuLu closer in her little spot between them. 

“You….” Blaise snorts, sounding awfully smug and strangely concerned. “You were telling us not to open something?” 

“Probably your big mouth.” Draco snarks back. His hands run through Harry’s hair and Harry decides that he’ll fall asleep the right way this time. 

Willingly, happily, and surrounded by warmth that will surely keep the weird door away.

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


The two weeks between the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game pass in a weird sort of haze.

Hermione’s still scaring them all, but Draco spots Belle’s owl on Sunday, and by Monday Hermione has miraculously begun to behave like normal. Slightly more aggressive, but still normal.

It’s both great and wonderful for the Defense Meetings, now dubbed Dumbass Assholes by Pansy after Neville managed to hit her with a stinging jinx. On the one hand, the others in the DA are  _ terrified  _ by Hermione, so they tend to talk back less and work a little harder than usual, but on the other hand, they’re  _ terrified  _ of Hermione so one of the Gang has to be paired with her because, apparently, no one else has the spine.

Poppy’s lectures are increasing, since Draco’s technically her aide now he has an exam, which means he’s been having Winky help him go through all his medical notes because he’s fairly positive that if he fails her midterm she might disembowel him on principle alone. 

Speaking of midterms, despite Hermione being a bit of a bitch, she still makes excellent study plans that Draco’s finally catching up to. Between them, his Quidditch practices, Perfect Duties, sessions with Ellios, and tea with Severus, he has no time. 

No time to be alone with Harry.

Which is why, on Friday night before the final Quidditch match of the season, Draco has Winky kidnap Harry from his room, roughly around midnight.

They pop into the Perfect’s Bathroom, actually managing to startle Draco for once.

“-Winky! You can’t just-Draco? Is this going to be a thing?” Harry demands. “I’ll have you know I was about to win against the door!”

Ah yes, the mysterious door that’s been appearing in Harry’s dreams.

That’s a different problem for a different day, because as of this moment, Draco is so fed up with problems that he honestly couldn’t care less. 

“Are you going to answer me?”

“Depends. Are you gonna get in the bath?”

Winky frowns at them. “If Mister Harry and Master Draco are being done, Winky will be retiring for the night.” Her face says that she  _ definitely  _ doesn’t want to see them in the bath. Seeing that she’s still reporting to his mother and he’d  _ really  _ doesn’t want to have the Birds And The Bees talk with her, Draco bids Winky goodnight and immediately pulls Harry forward.

“I thought we were taking a bath?”

“We are.” Draco says, and then promptly kisses him.

Harry laughs into it, arms easily going around Draco’s shoulders, “We only take baths when one of us is stressed?”

“We’re both stressed.” Draco insists, “And you’re wearing my hoodie, if those aren’t excuses to kiss you I really don’t know what is.”

“Do you need an excuse to kiss me?”

No, no he doesn’t. And to prove that point, Draco kisses him again. His lips first, his neck, his shoulder when his shirt finally comes off. He tries, and fails, to kiss whatever skin he can make contact with, but unfortunately, they  _ do  _ have to break apart so they don’t drown getting into the tub. But, one they’re there, Draco ends up kissing him again.

“Draco- _ Draco!  _ Hold on- _ Dra- _ wait a minute!” Harry forces him back, laughing and pretty and Draco doesn’t understand why they’re not mouth to mouth anymore, but Harry said wait so he’s waiting. “What’s going on? You’re usually not….so…”

“Horny?” Harry smacks him on the chest. “I’m not  _ horny,  _ I’m just...engaging in a bit of stress relief.”

“And kissing me is the way to relieve your stress?”

“Yes? I’ll have you know that it works wonders.”

Harry laughs again, but his hand gently travels up Draco’s chest, pulling him forward by the back of his neck for the kiss he’s been waiting for.

The soft one. The one that’s sweet, like a breath of fresh air, like coming home. The one that melts all of his fear away, eases his headaches, makes it a little easier to deal with things. When he’s kissed like this, all of his problems seem so insignificant, like there’s nothing he can’t face so long as he gets  _ this  _ at the end of the day.

He absolutely loves it.

“I have to distract you tomorrow.” Draco tells him, a while later when they’re dressing and getting ready to part ways. “I had to bribe the Slytherins into using Ron’s buttons, and this is one of my conditions.”

“Distract me how?”

Draco winks at him, “You’ll find out….try not to kill any innocent doors in your sleep, love.”

“Only if you promise not to kill innocent Slytherins for being dumb, dear.”

Draco laughs, and because he can’t resist when he’s feeling this laid back and happy, tugs Harry in for one last kiss.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


_ Distract,  _ Draco said. Just a small little distraction, one that shouldn’t get to Harry at all.

Draco, Harry’s learned, is a fucking liar.

He walks onto the pitch wearing a uniform that’s  _ way  _ too tight, nearly a second skin that hugs him in all the right places. His hair is in that messy bun Harry adores, his ass is on  _ full  _ display and Harry, quite frankly, isn’t feeling distracted one bit.

He’s feeling like he might combust on the fucking spot.

Fred and George wolf-whistle next to him, “Oi! Malfoy! You shrink your robes or something?”

“Seriously,” Ron shivers with disgust. “Mate, I can see  _ everything.” _

“Good. Gives you something nice to look at when we win.” Draco sneers, and then, as if Harry isn’t already on the verge of death, Draco  _ winks at him. _

That fucking bastard.

Harry, not for the first time, is  _ so  _ happy that he’s just a Seeker. He can’t imagine trying to play the other positions when Draco looks like that. When he’s perching on his broom in a way that honestly makes Harry think he’s ready for any  _ and  _ everything. 

Quite frankly, if the game could end so he can snog the air out of his boyfriend, that would be lovely.

Luckily, years of being distracted on the pitch means it’s actually easy to spot gold through his haze and dart after it.

Years of being distracted on the pitch did not, however, prepare him to lose all ability to function when Draco somehow manages to get in front of him, leaving him staring at a  _ beautiful- _

“-They’re off! Malfoy, in rather tight clothing that looks  _ smashing,  _ **_by the way,_ ** are neck and neck for the Snitch! They’re getting closer- nice pass by Zabini- _ oh!  _ Good block Weasley- Ron, not the others- _ and Potter and Malfoy have fallen off their broom!” _

He’s honestly not sure how it happened.

One second he’s in the air, right next to his ridiculous boyfriend, and the next second they’re on the ground. He’s encasing Draco, who lays flat on his back, looking at him with all the joy in the world.

_ “This  _ is your version of a distraction?!” Harry hisses.

And Draco, the gigantic ass, just smiles all cheekily at him, holding his left hand in the air. 

“Malfoy caught the Snitch!  **_Slytherin has won the match-but but wait!_ ** _ Gryffindor still wins the cup?! _ **_”_ **

Cheers erupt from all around them, and Harry’s about to roll off his dumbass boyfriend and go meet his team, but Draco apparently has other ideas. He snags the front of Harry’s robes, tugs him down, and kisses him.

Hand with the snitch still in the air, right in front of the  _ entire school,  _ Harry freezes for all of one second, and then he’s kissing back, smiling at the laughter and cat calls from all around them. 

“It’s an effective distraction.” Draco says when they part. “I did win, afterall.”

“You won the match, but you didn’t win the cup.”

“I’ve got a cup right here.”

Harry rolls off him before Draco can cup his ass.

He’s already got one life-ban on Quidditch removed, he doesn’t need another.

Although the idea is  _ very  _ tempting…..

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Draco’s celebration lasts all of five hours before he realizes that he left his bag in Poppy’s room that morning, and he has a report for Severus that he has to turn in at ten the next morning. 

He bypasses the party going on the common room that he  _ absolutely  _ does not see and did not participate in, rushes up to the hospital wing, gets a glare from Poppy because he apparently ‘smells like alcohol’ and then, on his way back to said party that definitely isn’t happening, hears two voices that makes him stop dead in his tracks.

“Look, Neville, we’ve got to stop running into each other like this. If I’m going to keep finding you crying, you’ve eventually got to tell me what’s wrong.”

“I  _ told  _ you. It’s  _ nothing.  _ I’m just being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid-”

“About this I am. And Willie, really, it’s fine. I’m  _ fine.” _

“This is the third time I’ve found you in a week.”

Draco’s tempted to keep going, to  _ not  _ eavesdrop on his friend and his weird not positive yet not exactly negative acquaintance, but his feet won’t move.

“Because I’m stupid.”

“Because you’re  _ hurting.” _

“It’s not,” Neville sniffs, “It’s not hurt. I just- I feel dumb, I guess.”

“Tell me about it?”

Neville laughs, sounding all sad and pitiful. “We don’t even know each other, I can’t exactly spill all my secrets to you.”

“No,” Willie reasons, “But I’m sure you can tell me why I keep finding you crying.”

Silence hangs heavy between the two, and Draco really, really,  _ really  _ wants to leave, and then Willie sighs, “I’ll tell you what. We can go down to the kitchens, I’ll sneak you into the dorm room, and we can have hot coco and talk-not like that! Just...chat. Take your mind off things, I might be an asshole but I can’t just leave you here.”

Neville sniffs again. “Hot coco sounds nice….”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


The next day, Draco makes Harry give him the map so he can hunt Neville down.

Which ends in Draco kicking several people out of the Gang’s room and pinning Neville with the glare he has to use on his first years.

“Um...did I do something wrong?”

“You’re upset. Why?”

“Um…”

And it’s not the Draco doesn’t like Neville. They’re friends in the weird, Sorry My Aunt Killed Your Parents type of way. They’re been through shit together, and Neville was apart of Plant Cult before relationships and hormones tore that down. They study together, they’ve laughed together, spent many nights bashing Harry’s ridiculous ideas, even more late nights studying with Hermione, really! Draco really does  _ like  _ having Neville as a friend.

But they aren’t the type of friends that talk to each other about personal things.

Not like this at least.

Which is probably why Neville is avoiding direct eye contact with him.

“I’m not upset-”

“You were crying to William last night, he took you to his room.”

“How did you-!”

“It doesn’t matter how I know, what matters is that you’re upset and I wanna know why.”

“It’s not-” Neville frowns at him. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

And the funny thing is that Draco’s most certainly going to worry about it. 

It’s weird how he didn’t notice it all before, and he one hundred percent blames it on Hermione’s breakdown, Quidditch, and upcoming midterms. Neville’s been  _ avoiding  _ them. 

Not just them.

Theo and Blaise, to be specific. 

“Have you noticed it?” He asks Harry, one afternoon when he’s trying to explain why stirring a potion a certain way is so important. 

“Of course I noticed it, it’s hard not to.”

Draco scowls at him.

“Don’t worry, they’ll make up eventually.”

He knows that, but he wants them to make up  _ now.  _ He’s finally gotten comfortable with having a big group of friends, and now they’re all fighting?

Draco sighs, letting Harry bring out his DA lesson plans. “Have you even owled Remus about those yet?”

“No….it’s fine. We have enough on our plates as is.”

He’s right about that.

Draco...well, it’s like he can’t fully catch a breath, especially now that midterms are looming over them like a great big mountain.

With the upcoming tests, everyone is more on edge. Pansy’s taken to snapping at anyone who isn’t him, Blaise, and surprisingly Ron. Blaise is slowly becoming unraveled, spending more and more time in the library, with an equally irritable Theo at his side. Millie’s taken to hanging out with Daphne and Astoria instead of their dysfunctional group, and that means Draco is having to shoulder Perfect duties completely by himself.

To top things off, all his other friends are starting to completely lose their minds

Hermione is officially off limits again, less snappy and angry, more completely focused on her studying. Ron, when he’s not off with Lavender, is stuck trying to manage the Gryffindor group. Neville’s still avoiding them, Fred and George are annoyed because they’re apparently thinking of dropping out completely, Ginny’s fully on board with leaving school, but Luna’s been nagging them all about it being the ‘wrong time’ to leave, and Harry….Harry, actually, doesn’t seem to be bothered by midterms.

If anything, he’s been the one keeping  _ Draco  _ sane.

And that’s saying something because Draco feels like he’s about to snap  _ all the fucking time. _

Somewhere between the lack of sleep, the pressure surrounding him from every angle, and the sheer stupidity his friends are pulling, he snaps.

Luckily he’s on the way to Snape’s office, so his godfather manages to intercept him before he burns all of Hogwarts down.

“Are you having another breakdown? I feel as though you’re having a breakdown.”

“I’m not having a break down, I’m just tired.”

“It’s  _ Monday.” _

“Yes, and midterms start in three weeks.”

Severus gives him a look, but he also forks over several Calming Draughts, so Draco thinks it’s a win.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


“We should be studying.” Hermione sighs.

Harry keeps dragging her along, not planning on stopping or dealing with her mood for one more second. “You’ve been studying for the past week, ‘Mione, it’s the first of December, you need a break.”

“I do not-”

Harry gives her a look. They make it all the way up to the seventh floor, and Hermione completely misses where they’re going until Harry shoves her into the Room of Requirement and she squeaks.

It’s a field.

One full of flowers, with a little deck at the front, filled with several comfortable looking blankets.

He leads her to one, plopping down and staring at her until she sits too.

“Is this an intervention?”

“Kinda.”

Hermione sighs. “I know I haven’t been..pleasant...but I’m working on it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Harry says. He leans back on his own blanket, soaking up the sun, thinking about his mysterious door and how he’s probably going to fail at least one of his midterms because he just can’t  _ care  _ about them this year. Draco will be pissed at him, and he’ll have to hide from Hermione for a week, but it’s better than stressing himself out over a silly little test. He’ll have a freak out at the end of the year, when he takes his OWLs.

Oh  _ Godric. OWLs…. _

He hasn’t even  _ begun  _ studying, and he really should, because he doesn't know what he wants to do with his life, and McGonagall is having career meetings after break and Blasie and Ron have been telling him to get passing scores in  _ everything  _ just in case, and that seems a bit impossible so how the hell is he going to-

“I feel stupid.” Hermione whispers, drawing Harry out of his head  _ immediately  _ because  _ Hermione Granger  _ is  _ not  _ stupid. “Don’t look at me like that, I know I’m not, I just...reacted in a bad way, I guess. With-with Pansy...I don’t know, Harry. I really thought I liked her. I mean, she’s pretty, she helps me figure things out, she treats me well, but when she kissed me it just wasn’t  _ right,  _ you know? It felt like kissing a friend, and not in a good way, and I-I panicked. And then with  _ Ron!” _

Harry shuffles away ever so slightly, just in case.

“Honestly! There’s  _ no need  _ for that! He just-  _ he’s infuriating!  _ Always around with  _ LavLav!  _ He’s gonna fail his midterm if he doesn’t come up for air! It’s  _ revolting!” _

“It’s his first relationship, ‘Mione.”

“That’s not a bloody excuse! Look at Blaise and Theo, or you and Draco! None of you have had problems with basic decency!”

“I mean-”

“Harry, you  _ know  _ what I mean. I’ve never  _ once  _ had to see your tongue all the way down Draco’s fucking throat. It doesn’t mean you don’t do it, it just means  _ I  _ don’t have to  _ see  _ it.”

“Okay, but we still kiss in front of you. I’m pretty sure Ron’s had to wash his eyes out a few times...does it bother you when we, Draco and I, I mean, do it? Or just Ron?”

“It’s not the same.” Hermione insists, “When you and Draco kiss it’s all pure and wholesome, sure it’s gross sometimes, but it doesn’t make me angry.”

Alright. He can work with that.

“And when Theo and Blaise do it?”

Hermione scowls, “They’re more vulgar than you two...but I don’t get angry about it….Mrs. Zabini wrote me, said it was natural to feel angry when-” She cuts herself off, clearly embarrassed if the way she hangs her head in her hands is anything to go by. 

“When what?”

“Nothing-”

_ “Hermione.” _

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harry frowns are her, “Alright-”

“It’s just, I don’t understand  _ why  _ I’m so angry, I mean, I do, because Ellios are I have been talking about it.  _ They  _ think it’s a mix of things, you know? Says the whole lot of us have been through too much too young, and that it makes sense for us to have trouble with...with emotions. And think about it, Harry, how many times have we died? How much have  _ you  _ been through?  _ You  _ didn’t have a problem accepting that you were having feelings for Draco so why can’t I-”

If she doesn't just say it, Harry is going to scream.

“Why can’t you what?”

“Why can’t I accept positive feelings?” Hermione says quietly. “Why do I overreact to everything? Why am I constantly better under stress? Why can’t I just…. _ relax  _ and let things happen? Why does seeing  _ Ron  _ with-with  _ her….” _

Harry wants to tell her. He wants to say it  _ so  _ badly, but Hermione is finally opening up so he keeps his mouth shut.

“Ellios thinks it’s because I’m so used to preparing for something awful. You dying, something with lizard face, Ron getting hurt, Draco being beaten, the only people that I’m not normally worried about are Pansy and Blaise, and that’s just because they haven’t been bodily harmed-yet. They’re our friends, Harry, anything we get up to, they’re gonna be right there with us and I...I keep thinking that something terrible is going to happen, and it’s making me even more stressed than normal and then Ron goes and pulls this shit and now I’m  _ confused  _ and you  _ know  _ I don’t like being confused.”

Harry sighs.

“Hemione, you’re the most brilliant person I’ve ever met. I’m completely convinced that you’re smarter than most adults, and I certainly trust you more, but  _ Hermione.  _ We’re  _ fifteen.  _ We’ve got  _ years  _ to go before we stop confusing each other.”

“Harry-”

“No.  _ Listen,  _ ‘Mione. We’ve been at this whole ‘not dying’ thing since we were what? Eleven? That’s like five years of experience, and we’re not even alone anymore. We’ve got a whole heap of adults with us, and if you think Narcissa Malfoy is going to let something hurt Draco, you’ve got another thing coming. Sirius and Remus? They’d probably murder Ol’ Voldy before letting him hurt me, Belle and Katie have got Blasie and Pans, and I don’t know if you’ve  _ met  _ Mrs. Wealsey, but her and Narcissa have been hanging out so I fully buy that she’s going to kill someone before we graduate-”

“Harry!”

“-and if that doesn’t work, you  _ know  _ we’ve been adopted, as a whole, by  _ Slytherin Parents.  _ I reckon they’re a force completely capable of taking on anyone who goes against us. I mean, could you  _ imagine  _ if Narcissa had been around first year? I would’ve mentioned the locked door and she would’ve made Lucius close the entire school down over it.”

“You’re awful.” Hermione tells him, but she smiling. Harry hasn’t seen her doing that in  _ weeks. _

“All I’m saying is that keeping us alive isn’t just  _ your  _ job anymore. Never was, really, it was more of a three person thing. And now I’m pretty sure we’ve got a whole army with us-”

“I thought we weren’t calling the DA that.”

“-and the point is that we’re gonna be fine. There’s nothing that we haven’t been able to handle thus far, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Shitty Teachers?” Hermione asks

“Happens every year.”

“Life threatening situations?”

“We  _ all  _ know how to handle those.”

“The Ministry being stupid?”

“Will they  _ ever  _ use their brains, come on, ‘Mione, gimme something hard.”

Hermione goes quite, taking his hand and playing with his fingers like Draco does when he’s super stressed. “Losing someone.”

“It won’t happen.” Harry tells her. He closes his hand around hers, squeezing ever so lightly. “We haven’t lost anyone yet, and we won’t.”

“But-”

“We  _ won’t,  _ Hermione. I won’t let it happen.”

And for some weird reason, Hermione believes that.

She smiles her little smile at him again, finally leaning back so they lay side by side.

“Harry,” She says after a minute. “Thank you.”

There’s a lot behind those two words. Whole sentences that aren’t spoken, things that Hermione doesn’t have to say because he gets it.

He never had a family before Hogwarts. He didn’t even realize his views on family were changing until third year, when he was listening to Fred and George complaining about siblings and immediately thought of Ron and Hermione.

They’re the closest things he’s got to siblings. They’re with him through  _ everything,  _ always, no matter what. It doesn’t matter if they’re fighting, if they’re upset with each other or slightly annoyed, there’s nothing they won’t do for each other.

He’s pretty sure they’re the ones who taught him what love is.

What it’s like to be willing to do anything for someone. What it’s like to look forward to seeing someone, to actually  _ like  _ hugs, to have late night conversations that ruin his sleep schedule. What it’s like to feel someone else’s pain, even if you’re upset with them.

He’s pretty sure they’re more of a family than anyone else.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione; the two dumbasses and their fearsome leader.

And with them came a whole heap of family. The Weasleys, obviously since Molly nearly adopted him on the spot. Sirius and Remus, the Malfoys, even Blaise and Pansy are nearing the ‘family’ mark at this point.

And in this moment, lying next to Hermione in some magical field, one that’s not really there but it  _ is  _ because it’s the bloody Room of Requirement, Harry wonders if he could’ve predicted this moment six years ago.

Lying in a similar fashion, only in a cramped closet with bruises, shaking down to his bones.

He wonders if he ever could’ve guessed that there would be a day like this.

Where he’d begun by waking up to his best friend, the closest thing he’s ever had to a brother, snoring. Where he’d make fun of his friends and  _ not  _ get beat for it. Sit with them at a table full of people that don’t care for him, but put up with him because his friends would hurt them if they tried anything. Go through Herbology with another friend who’s just as fierce but still meek and shy. Have his hair pulled by twins, but in a way that doesn’t hurt. Be punched one one arm and poked in the other by two girls, one like his younger sister and one whose head is always in the clouds. Smile in the halls at older friends who have nearly died beside him. Be kissed so very gently just because a beautiful boy who he loves wants to kiss him.

To have it end, lying side by side with the girl who knows everything, the girl who is haughty and lovely and exactly the person he can go to with anything.

In all honesty, ten year old Harry Potter had no idea his life would ever be this good, but fifteen year old Harry Potter can’t be thankful enough.

“I love you too, ‘Mione.”

Hermione scoffs, but she squeezes his hand back anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! I'm super excited because NEXT WEEK IS IT!!! I get to post the work I've been dying to post, so here's a bit of pre information with it because I won't be adding this much information in the description and I'm dying to gush about it. Literally, I started writing it when I was stressed and really sad and thinking about a house i'd like to live in to get away from everything, so I started playing around on the sims and mid way through I got frustrated because the sims wasn't doing my house justice so I was like 'lets write about it' and now i have a whole fanfiction just for fun and it's wonderful!  
> It's a slowburn, I won't lie. Like I'm mid way through writing chapter seven and harry and draco still haven't come in contact, mainly because it's primarily about draco healing after the war, all the chapters are twenty pages long (bare minimum), so it's a long fic so far.  
> I have several ocs in it, like the gossipy shopkeepers (I would die for Mrs. Daisy) and a house elf (Misty, my love) who whoops draco into shape. Kingsely also has a big role in it, as do various gryffindors and slytherins. I won't spoil too much, but I'm gonna be posting the first two chapters of it on March 5th so I hope you're just as excited!!!  
> Anyways,
> 
> Millie, to Draco: This is the shittest idea you've had yet  
> Draco, holding a button: but it's shiny!
> 
> The Gang, enjoying an afterparty:  
> Ron and Lavender, making out:  
> The Gang: gross.
> 
> The Gang: We have to do something about Hermione  
> Hermione: I will kill you if you look at me  
> The Gang: We have to leave Hermione alone
> 
> Draco: I am going to 'distract' my boyfriend  
> Harry, staring at Draco's ass: I'm going to murder him
> 
> Draco, wearing super tight clothes:  
> Harry, upon seeing Draco: I will be losing this game to Draco's ass.
> 
> Neville: I am not upset  
> Willie, finding him crying: Yes you are  
> Draco, concerned: Yes you are  
> The Gang: Yes you are  
> Neville, in tears: No I'm not
> 
> Harry: I'm calling an intervention  
> Hermione: I don't want it  
> Harry: Okay  
> Hermione: Wait-
> 
> Harry: I love my idiot friends  
> Hermione: You're the only idiot, mate


End file.
